Godforsaken Poetry

The Greeks solved all

their dramas

with deus ex machina

Beckett threw them all a monkey wrench

with Waiting for Godot

now I write this waiting for my Muses

to waltz with my finger tips upon this keyboard dance floor

to lead me to where this poem is meant to go

if this is it

then I want to know why

God only knows what my reader must want

I guess that’s up to you

my deus ex machina

to save me from bad poetry

because if you like this

then this must be good poetry.

 

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