Bad Poetry Friday

When I was sixteen and seventeen I was obsessed with a) Lisa Loeb and b) Van Gough c) Anne Sexton. The following bad poem reflects both of those things.

An Artist’s Rendition of Death 2/5/1998

Van Gough never fell in love

except for the whore

he cut off his ear for

she broke his heart

he broke his brushes

she shot him down

so he shot himself

and he died

a sick man

a lonely soul

 

Sexton loved the most

always kissing hellos

she danced with her velvet words

and the devil

he drove her too far

so she gassed herself to death in the car

and she died

a sick woman

a lonely soul

 

I’m in the middle

do I dare paint with words

and listen to dead conversations? 

I don’t understand art

I just breathe it

 

 

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