In the poetry slums

A word deprived city slicker
wandering around
in the poetry slums
chewing on regurgitated slang
from a poor man’s verse.
Where nouns are dirty
and verbs kick you
in the guts
leaving you swinging
from a line fragmented
from a homeless stanza.
Yes! Where’s the adjective
when you need one
banging your head
against a brick wall
where the mind is
emptied of all
it’s contents,
and the bell
in the belfry
rings of no tunes.
Can you spare a word.
All the while
wind blown letters
lie in the gutter,
the Holy Grail
of meanings remain
hidden, out there
and my thoughts
are hungry for fodder.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

Well, I found you a homeless shelter: Writerscafe; good food for thought, hungry eyes for reading, full bellies of words. Lol

[andrew mitchell]

Thanks Sami. Lol a homeless shelter Writerscafe.

[Sami Khalil]

Hehehe
You are welcome sir Andrew

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am still trying to get out of the slums...would you lend a helping hand, andrew? I have to get out of here.

[andrew mitchell]

Anytime Jacob but your kit bag is well versed than mine.

[andrew mitchell]

I need a wordsmith.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the colloquial poet panhandling and being ignored...no Holy Grail for him.

Picking up poetry scraps off the curb...that is not going to do it...

[andrew mitchell]

Thanks J for your words and giving the write a go.