poetry critical

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pocket verse nummer three
cadmium

when i go to the morgue,
 1
i hope i'mm not alone.
 2
c. u. then.
 3
 
 
for now, go
 4
back inside,
 5
 
 
yeah, i'm a
 6
dick,
 7
but i need your help.
 8
 
 
tap the key;
 9
find the deed.
 10

trying to sound like i'm at least on drugs, if not psychotic or mystic. the reader finds the pattern and decides what's happening. that's why lite verse like this is worthless as poetry. it's cheap writing.

17 Jun 18

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i w'n to the animal fair...
the birds and the beees were there.
the big boss of poetry ( yew know who i mean),
by the light of the moon
was combing his bleach blond hair.

as was typical, he got drunk,
and decided to post as an 'unk'
but, he started to sneeze,
and hammered the keys,
and it came out as his real name... yew know who.
 — cadmium

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