There is a reason why you are not reading
Love poetry anymore, and that’s because
A lot of it is crap,
Just a big tall heap of fuming crap.
Don’t get me wrong, « Love »,
Some poets are indeed incapable of graduating out
Of the trifecta of “I” and “Love” and “You”,
And you wouldn’t listen to them anyway.
But even with the vast others,
Although it may be tough to admit,
Given the twists and the birds,
The turns and the hearts
And the longing
And the loss – there you go, now he cries on the page –
You probably wanted to stop reading
Two verses from the top.
And yet, one goes on as
This is a dangerous part of town,
To be left without friends.
You should have realized by now why
All this love and friendship poetry
Does not cut mustard for nobody,
Those guys have not really loved thy strangest
Or they would not speak,
They have not been friends with the weakest,
Or they would not talk,
They have just been on a cruise ship
Hoping for India while heading west to Disneyland.
Frédéric Benqué 