the crazy poet curses his fate
as once again he sits up late
adding another unread verse
to his unloved literary universe
like a lighthouse keeper going quietly manic
on a godforsaken rock in the North Atlantic
the revolving light
his lonely plight
the crashing ocean
his tears of frustration
the foghorn his words
his anxiety the birds
his pen a tufty wire brush
he uses to whitewash
the cold walls of his condition
stop! okay…. listen
as metaphors go this is bogus
and you seriously need to re-focus
to begin with – what are you trying to say?
you’re depressed because nobody reads you today?
well – newsflash – check the extended metaphor
what d’you think a lighthouse is for?
I’m sorry if this fact comes as a shock
but it’s not to get passing boats ONTO the rock
I dunno – maybe you’re thinking of WRECKERS
(don’t you even USE fact checkers?)
and even if that was what you meant
how would that be encouragement?
tricking people onto the boulders
so they can flip through a coupla poetry folders
and say hell! you write some really nice stuff
now excuse me whilst I DROWN IN THE SURF
a lighthouse? C’mon, man! Who needs it?
write better shit and people might read it