You Changed…So Will I

As a poet I’m straight forward …

Ever meet that person who, when they get an ounce of power, they change, most of the time for the worse. This is for them. You all know one

You Changed…and so Will I

Don’t you ever speak of disrespect while I’m next to you.

Your words are expendable when you come at a sentinel,

The death of your words is eventual and intentional,

Word for word and pound for pound, I’m a professional

It’s one thing to be critical, analytical, but not hypocritical—

Towards an individual, one who can get at you with syllables.

I’m tired of you flexing your physical because someone listed you,

I’m pissed at you, so typical, your words sound egotistical.

You’re not always right, and I’m not always right, I’m sinistral.

I left you, when you became political, parasitical,

A criminal who’s ways became more and more atypical,

And I found our relationship was not conciliable.

As a poet I’m straight forward, sometimes I’m metaphoric,

Ideas trip endorphins, sending signals to my mental organs

These pages, out of space, so I forfeit to these euphoric—

Forces that orbit in my portrait and support my fortress

The shell of my fortunes, a skeleton of a gentleman,

Covered by a hard pelt of an elephant’s tegument

My regimen is a specimen of modern day medicine

I eat the dictionary and digest something genuine and relevant

My elegance is a testament to the resonance of my covenant

Between me and you, simple words can’t explain it, but I’m not loving it.

I coveted the elements of residence, my thoughts were heaven-sent

But my emotions were renascent and my sentiments held deficit.

So I spit on the paper that was used as a disclaimer

To favor my creator to use his eraser on my labors

But my savior is no slayer, as he said, you must love thy neighbor

And tells me my behavior should be greater than my haters

The safer bet though, is to put these razors to your flavor sensors

And censor all the tremors that you render for my surrender

I am no pretender, remember the embers my mouth engenders,

As I center my brain center and unleash the death of your words forever

As a poet I’m straight forward, my lexicon is fully staffed for your behalf

as a polymath my autograph is the epitaph of your aftermath

don’t come at me with riffraff just to make me laugh

I don’t have time for the paragraphs that you telegraph.

I’d rather learn the world from guys like Tony or Ralph, Vincent or John,

A forest of fawns like the pictures that Phyllis’s words draw upon,

How someone can spawn a love that was gone and have it live on,

In a verse or two like Rasma and Kurt can do with their phrase paragons.

As a poet I’m straight forward, with still much to discover,

The plight of a lover, the disappointment of a mother,

How to buffer criticisms and begin to recover,

how to color in the outlines of another mattress cover.

Just another obstacle to conquer so I’ll conjure this monster

To keep me stronger and block my nerves while I ponder–

This encore, you may want to call those first responders

Because your honor’s a goner when I come around the corner

Tuck that tail between your legs you aren’t a poet or writer,

just a dog with no bite, now a narcotics subscriber

Asylum is a deserted island somewhere you’re the lone survivor

This lion holds the mainland and his heart is made of fire.

Go hide in exile somewhere.

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

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