Cherry Scented Poetboy

you think you are so
intelligent with your
obscure references to pop culture
and your convoluted metaphors
involving fairytale words that
sound good against the tongue
dream, future, love, cherry, rainbow,
things you know
nothing about but in your adolescent
arrogance have decided are within
you talents to explore.

well, let me tell you something real:
you are nothing more then an obscure poet
with a big head and the kind of
confidence in yourself
that grates against my skin with every word you say.

i am not a poet worth mentioning
but my poetry comes from a place
deep inside myself and i do not
try and ornament it with what i think
are sugar sweet metaphors in the hope
they will make people aware of my intelligence.
perhaps i am above average but
i do not shout it from the pages of my cheap notebooks
and underline it with those long words
that you consider so intellectual.

i am not writing this to say i am better then you.
we are equals and
i am an admirer of the way your poetry looks
on the ruled paper that litters
your hardwood floors and the concrete slabs
that lead the way to your apartment
but admiration does not always equal respect.

let me put it in words
that your pseudo intellectual mind
can appreciate:
one day, Icarus,
you will fly too close to the sun
and I will collect the wax in a
pretty rainbow tinted jar that smells of
cherries and spring dreams
and i will place a lable
bearing the word that brought such cruel punishment
in the days of Gods and thunderbolts:
Hubris.