In envy, greed, and loneliness,
We post our poems to be read
We all want love and attention,
But we're just creating a mess
Why do you write such garbage
To celebrate the novice ideas
That you freely express?
Your poems are worthless as a whole
One among a thousand
Are a treasure to behold
But heaped in Junk we don't want
How could they be sold?
I write to offer a world of imagination
Come be immersed, and in it you will be free
Yes you, the fool with potential, but incomplete
The cluttered disillusionment that you came to be
I am young, arrogant, with something to be told
I don't care if you're experienced, sometimes that's just old
You choose not to learn, write uninspiring words
Complicating your vocabulary and your verse
I don't see how it could really get any worse
Have you looked around, do you see the others?
They are posting things much, much better
Not because what you're writing isn't worth it
It's just incomplete, without emotion, ideas, or needs
I love simplicity, but with insight, not in the mind
I love complex well oiled machines, but not inefficiency
Please, when you find the time
Could you give me something good to read?
Brandon Owens
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/something-to-read/
