Thursday, 17 July 2025

Your Poetry, My Ass

An entire generation of poets

has been convinced

that Instagram shitposting

is poetry.


An entire generation of poets

has tried erasing the roots of poetry —

as if they were pencilled into

a neoliberal whiteboard.


An entire generation of poets

has been reciting heartbreak like prophecy,

as if a missing hip-girdle

wasn’t foretelling enough.


An entire generation of poets

has been bullshitting on page and in safe spaces —

as if selling cow dung

was fashionable for both

left-leaning saviours

and right-wrecking dimwits.


An entire generation of poets

has buried poetry six feet under

in the name of relatability —

as if blood

hasn’t tasted betrayal

enough.


I stand alongside a handful few —

pens for scalpels and papers for autopsies

bleeding these literary leeches dry

it's time poetry got its poetic justice.

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