Rejection…

Rejection…

An everyday occurrence.

Everywhere,

In public or hidden away

In the cold silence

Of an empty room,

Somebody feels the heat.

The embarrassed flush

When a truth sayer bites.

And that sinking feeling

You hoped would never return,

Brings you to your knees,

With a deeper hurt

Than carpet burn.

Higher praise is given

To kittens who open doors

Make a mark of genius

With paint daubed on paws.

The world loves a trier

But what it wants more

Is a dancing cow.

Or a bunch of babies

Clowning around

And without written consent

Are lip synced

To Bohemian rhapsody

Better yet

A gorilla plays drum rolls

In the mist

And sounds just like Phil Collins.

Whatever else,

Never say you are an author.

Heaven forefend

You stand up as a poet,

As most people either loathe

Or pity you.

Writing is not a profession.

Scratching words on a page,

It is not as if you

Are even an actor,

Bringing words to life

On a stage.

Get a real job,

Anybody can write,

If they only had the time.

What most people want

Is a gentle rhyme,

Nothing too harsh,

Wordy or worthy,

Simple whimsy,

Or positive statement,

To put in a card

With enough space

To fill in the last line.

No need to pull a sour face,

Accept this indifference

With good grace

Or stop doing it.

Why do you do it anyway?

If it’s not for the praise

Is it just to confirm

You champion the underdog.

But not the singing pooch

In the two minute clip

That went viral

Or the teenage slam poet

Who chimes a rhyme

With a hint of misogyny

Without knowing quite

What that means,

And smiles all the time.

With milk white teeth

That can barely

Cut the mustard.

Why make life easy

When it can be a spiral

Of ever diminishing returns

A lesson in humility

Which brings little reward

Can become a thankless slog,

And yet another,

Nicely written

But sadly,

Unliked,

Unshared

Unread blog.

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