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The Land of Poetry

by Johanna May

From long ago when Babylon gave birth
to Gilgamesh and words were no longer
grunts as sharp as hunting tools to alert
a sauntering mammoth or dizzied bear—-
Up to now when everything is out of whack
and grunts are making a trendy comeback.
From Epic, to Ode, Lune to Septolet
sonnets of love to arse of Antoinette.
Recited from Gabon to Disneyland
accompanied by Marzuka or pirouette.
There are no more new frontiers to this land.

From stark to deliberate obsfuscation,
Archaic, prosaic, Mesozoic,
about death and gods and circumcision,
topics: orgasmic to ectoplasmic.
Everything you intend to write about,
about your drinking bout to painful gout.
The life and times of your Aunt Cornucopia
is writ down by someone from Estonia.
Also from Turkmenistan to Lapland
writing of, moons, stars and Necrophilia
There are no more new frontiers to this land.

The color of the new age is jaded
they have read everything under the sun
dainty knitted words and verse brocaded
is fawned by the constipated ruling clan.
The pioneers spoke the language of the poor
the lice infested, tooth-decayed galore,
carried news of talent by word of mouth
the selfsame mouth thats only graced by drought.
Poetry made to be high-falluting and grand
treks history’s anus on its way out.
There are no more new frontiers to this land.

Chasing the day touched by so much beauty
is already a Kevin Spacey movie.
Because from near to here and here to there
there are poets, poets everywhere!
From literature’s halls and vast wastelands
from the muttered oath to the uttered prayer
There are no more new frontiers to this land.

01/20/2013

Posted on 01/20/2013
Copyright © 2024 Johanna May

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