This poem was published in the December 2011 issue of the South African journal New Contrast. Most people around the world will find it hard to get a hold of this so I don't have a problem posting it here. You can check out some details here: http://www.newcontrast.net/
The Bad Hosts
The bad hosts don’t seem to realize that they are not so special.
Someone new comes into their midst and they sniff around
like dogs
and wonder when they will be approached for entry into the club –
when will the applicant bow before them in order to be allowed to sit
amongst them?
They’ve created a myth for themselves, and they’ve come to believe it.
There are piles of bad hosts situated across a myriad of loci,
like turds fallen onto a broken sidewalk that stretches from horizon to
horizon
all believing the myth they’ve created for themselves.
Funny people, those ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Feel free to comment, I know you're out there.
That's what I used to say till all these assholes who are trying to scam me popped up. Die motherfuckers, die.