Twenty-Eight Lines of Love for AuthorsDen:
A Punk Poet Finds Paradise

What is the point of writing anything
When as a result all I do is bring
Trouble on myself and disapproval?

It seems diplomacy is not for me
I post and then scramble for removal
Before international incidents
Spiral completely out of my control

I thought only PMs and presidents
Had to worry about selling the soul
All my sly humor is misunderstood
My work is judged as tasteless and no good

English as a second language is hard
An uproar and offense is the result
If you fail to sound like a greeting card

The more trouble I have with difficult
People the more of a punk I become
Everything I write offends somebody

I throw down my pencil and turn on some
Loud T. S. O. L. Ramones or The Clash
Scream along and forget all the ruddy
Complaining all the bloody explaining

OK you hate my work I am a jerk
I grant them as I head for AuthorsDen
Public house of poets women and men
Who read my poems with an open mind

While punk bands from my speakers scream and crash
I feel what it is like to be alone
But here at least I feel that I am known

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMV
for my friends at AuthorsDen