‘NO INSTA OBSESSION’:
A BITCHY CONFESSION,
DELIVERED WITH SPITE
(Which I’m highly self-aware isn’t very nice)
_________________

Oh yes! It’s true both
Through AND Through,
So I’ve no choice but to
Confess to you:
Instagram CAN be The Land
Where much-melodious
(And crutch-cacophonous)
Poetic (and pathetic) sing-songs
And Lyrical (as well as illyrical)
Poems can be found.

The harshest sounds in this land
Startle enough to mystify me
Half as much and twice enough
To tie me, down me, bind me, and ground me.

Yes, this land STILL can
Glide, glam and glisten,
But it also too-glows too-hospital bright,
And fluoresces rather than caresses
When so few listen to words penned and written
By the only soul I’ve ever owned.

I find it frights me from unveloping, sharpening and developing
How I say What I Most Know
Deep down marrowed in my bones.
This forced-upon silence feels a might violent,
As if my voice is being crushed by those so very high “Above:”

A delightful delusion
I squeally laugh to love,
And to prolong the confession?
Every bit as sarcastically
Giggle to and make fun of.

Why? Because I’m too full of Emotion
To squander my precious time
On self-serving Self-Promotion.
I should’ve lived in the 1920s,
When lush with drink and think,
Poets didn’t sink in indifferent enemies.
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#surlypoetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity (ha ha)