Comments Poem by Frank Avon

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12 dislikes
Keep them comments comin'.

Somebody reads me,
well, not the gazillions
who follow
those bloggers

the ones who share
their every care
and daily disclose

their nakedness
their grocery lists,
what haunts them
and taunts them,
profundities about

movies we've missed
(or shouldn't see)
income tax
adolescent zits,
elderberry tea,
NFL pro's
the latest in back packs,
Angelina's clothes
brad's beard and hair,
how much skin they should bare,
a pet chihuahua,
the refreshing smell of ocean spray
how to pick your nose,
wunders and wizdumb,
global warmin'
desert stormin'
what straits some singer riz from,
what hites some stars soared to,
and everything in between.

You know who I mean.


A handful of folk
I've tried to provoke:
I've panned 'Invictus, '
touted Bukowski
and Ferlinghetti,
on one James Merchant
thrown confetti,
given verbal thumbs up
to Collins and Oliver,
found Poe too bouncy,
compared his Helen
to Marlowe's
and rated it lower,
defended Gibran,
the neglected one....

Enough of this;
you get the gist.

I don't hesitate
to make a mistake,
and how!

Sometimes I'm serious,
sometimes imperious,
or nearly delirious,
like now!

but usually just simple.
Here's an example:

It's about a poem by Roald Dahl
to someone who said he forged it all.


PLEASE, put away the DVDs and read;
books are the only thing you need.
You'll find them on the library shelf
where you can quickly help yourself.
And if you persist long enough
(it won't be hard, it won't be tough) ,
somewhere near the library wall
you'll find a book by Roald Dahl:
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Yes, that's right. That's it exactly.
The book is neato! very groovy!
and it came long before the movie.
So put away those DVDs
and READ the original -
please, PLEASE, PLEEEEASE!