Mutilating Art
Poetry is art
Meant to be read and enjoyed,
Not to be studied
Like a monkey in a cage.
Every word, every sound, every line
Dissected like a frog.
Is there an anatomy of poetry?
Poetry is a story.
Love, death, and friendship
All an important part of life,
Ripped apart because of its use of
Similes and metaphors.
Overthinking, comprehending
People are complex.
They treat emotions like machines.
Emotions are delicate,
Easily broken by pessimism.
Poetry is music.
Sweet rhymes soothe the soul.
It creates an image no one can dream
Never based on another story
Like Hollywood and its plagiarism.
Pain, misery, sorrow
Ignite the emotions of the sufferer,
Creating masterpieces of the English language.
Yet, people still don’t understand their suffering.
Poetry is poetry.
No need to view it like an equation.
It is simple, not complex.
It is beautiful, not plain.
No need to observe it like DNA.
Poetry is art.
Meant to be cherished and loved
Not to be mutilated
Like the Black Dahlia.
Dancing words flow the page.
Sweet rhymes caress the ear.
What’s wrong with reading for fun?
People say it like its practicing devil worship!
Poetry is not to be classified.
Poetry and prose
Prose and poetry
All the same.
Poetry is mutilated art!
Every letter plucked from every word!
Beautiful sounds droned by voices in the mind!
Genius use of language translated into gibberish!
All ripped apart
By a single English teacher…
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