Anti-Poet

You see them sometimes

Packed into mental asylums

Like brain dead puppies

Mumbling haiku

Shouting sonnets

Writing pentameter in feces

They'll bash their heads

So hard into the padding

Then cry over the

Lack of blood

Until the orderlies stroll

On by

Offering tonight's meal

Coffee and

Veggie burgers

The same thing

Every night

And the patients will

Wolf that down

As if it's the flesh of some

Writer from the ghetto

And at night they'll strum

Their ukeleles

Singing about 1980's pop culture

And kitchen utencils

I don't want to be

An inmate in that Hell

A lifetime citizen

At the Green Grove Sanitarium

For The 100% sane