Cliché

As with the last post, I’m again posting a reading of a poem. I hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s part self-criticism, part making crappy ideas work for me. It’s a reflection of frustration with being unable to come up with unoriginal thoughts and then kind of saying, well, if that’s all I’ve got to work with, let’s do this anyway.

As with the last post, I’m again posting a reading of a poem. I hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s part self-criticism, part making crappy ideas work for me. It’s a reflection of frustration with being unable to come up with unoriginal

 

Cliché

From the rising of the sun

To the setting of the same

I will fill my poem

With plethora of cliché

I’ll be preachy with my wording

Throw my beliefs in your face

When you’re bad, I feel better

Who needs tact or grace?

Or perhaps I’ll tell you about my motherland

And how I miss it so

But I’ve never actually been there

And really, I hate the snow.

I could tell about the tribulations

Of what it means to be a writer

While I live in privilege

And pain is one all-nighter

I could write of adolescent love

Convince you that it’s real

Teach you it’s a feeling

A heartbeat and sex appeal.

I could write some lines of politics

I’m sure that I’d be right

Thousands of years of man’s problems

I’ve solved them in one night.

I know it all sounds cynical

But I assure you it is not.

I want my words to make a difference

But clichés are all I’ve got

 

 

(c) 2011

Joshua Murray

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