Guest Poet Tom Jett
the seasons i pass become illuminated by each
rumor of a second coming
perhaps with the advent of the Y2k bug
i stepped over a mad prophet who spoke to me in
fervish languages that once were indignant but have become sterile
with cheap cigarettes, cheap wine and the grueling life of a wayward preacher
we spent hours talking about the message written on his sandwich board
which read "Repent!"
the letters were backwards and tainted
it's what happens when the sacred is revealed with spray paint and is plagierized
beneath the calloused words that fell from his tongue
i saw a hidden meaning that i sought to uncover
but when i began to probe his anxiousness showed so he lit another newport
it was then i realized he had fallen from grace and his wisdom had become
encapsulated in grimacing stones
Tom Jett's Questions:
One problem i have with my poetry is i always wonder if my use of metaphors may be a little overbearing.
to me they seem cluttered at times and the flow is sometimes interupted.
i was just wondering if someone could critique me on this and maybe tell me how i could make my poems a little more uniform. i am also somewhat unschooled and not familiar with traditional poetry so i'm having a hard time finding my niche.
i've only been writing for about two years so any input would be greatly appreciated.
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