Sitting down at a keyboard,
Hands steadily punching white keys.
Keys softly clicking.
Staring into the white glare.
Focusing. Thinking. I must know something.
After all, I'm a poet. I must be, because I'm writing.
I'm not a novelist, therefore, I must be a poet.
It's so easy. I don't have to rhyme.
Rhyming is far beneath my intellectual ability.
I just have to share my feelings.
And maybe say something about death.
Yes, that is the key. Poets are obsessed with death.
Death clings to my soul like black Saran Wrap.
My obligation fulfilled, I am a legitimate poet.
I am even more legitimate if I say;
"I wish we all could be black and live in the rainforest."
All my friends know I post my every mood on a web site.
Just for poets.
Keats, Dickinson, Shelley, Melville,
Whitman, Wilde, Wordsworth and Me.
I must be a good poet.
Other internet poets say they like my stuff.
I am better than they are.
I don't like their stuff, although,
Sometimes I say I do.
So they will like mine.
Hostility is also good.
I'll get to that later.
After you see how good I am,
Please read and comment.
Don't be harsh.
Real poets are nice to each other.
Enable my need to continue staring,
Clicking the white keys until…
You have to admit,
Some of these poems really suck!