“THE MYSTIC POET CRIES HIMSELF 2 SLEEP AT NIGHT.” a poem 23 Nov 2019 [Saturday]

“THE MYSTIC POET CRIES HIMSELF 2 SLEEP AT NIGHT.” a poem 23 Nov 2019 [Saturday]

Women hate me; men despise me,

For I write ThePoet ry;

Children, even infants, loathe me

AsIdeclareTheTRUTH? I’m on a spree?

Talking MONEY GOD and S _ X;

Even God wants to cast “a hex,”

Upon my head. I’mJust: Cowboy Tex.

And all the porn girls PLACE “an X,”

Onto my vicious, heinous mug,

Wishing to squish me like a stinky bug,

Just ’cause Yeah. I like to write,

And CRY and HIDE and NEVER fight;

I’m just A LOVER a “lover boy,”

But girls avoid my shiny toy,

By NEVER talkin’ or glancin’ my way,

And NOW onThisHere ArtWalk Day,*

I STROLL CROWDED STREETS TO SELL SOME ART,

PULLING ON MY LITTLE CART,

BEGGING FOR FOOD AND ASKING: “PLEASE,

BUY A PIECE OF ART FROM THE LIKES OF MEs.” (pause)

But I’m abhorred with no hope in sight;

The Mystic Poet criesThroughTheNight.

fin <3

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– a special weekend in Alpine, Texas, U. S. A., where people come FROM AROUND THE WORLD to (1) NOT buy my paintings or prints . . . or origami . . . and (2) NOT listen to my poetry. AND (3) threaten me with bodily harm. AND (4) NOT buy me a small cup of coffee (cough, cough . . . eeee) to stem the progress of certain death, due to starvation, neglect and disappointment. Le Sigh. 🙂 – I’m just kiddin’ :O – No, you’re not. :I – Yes, I am. 🙁 – You stink. 🙂 – No, I don’t. 😮 – Loser. :

@beatrizjung