You have proven to be
An inferior adversary,
The pathetic balls of fury you hurl
Bounce off a rind grown tough
From years of your exploitation
Without even a hint of sting.
As if I would do anything
But spurn your pleas for benevolence…
Mercy no longer exists in me,
Replaced by ruthless bloodlust.
Everything is proceeding
According to my design.
I've bided my time in obscurity,
Patiently subtracting
Days from the calendar,
Months and years of planning
Stretching into an eternity
Of placating the ignorant,
Channeling the angst
Of Midwestern housewives
As I wander through
The post-apocalyptic rubble
Of failed romance and broken dreams,
My subliminal poetry
Turning masses into minions
Awaiting my command,
My demonic daydreams
Measured in iambs,
Tucked into dusty drawers
Until that moment of glory
When the tyrants fall
And the poet reigns supreme.
~~~~ Be sure to check out my first installment of A Missive from the Lair.
~~~~ This poem was written for a prompt from Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads asking us to write a poem in parody of our own style. This also works with the prompt from dVerse Poets Pub asking us for ars poetica (poetry about poetry) as well as my prompt over at Poetry Jam regarding daydreams. Finally, I incorporated this week’s words from over at The Sunday Whirl in this poem.
