From A Poet Most Cranky

I reject you rejection…oh yes…you heard right.

Disappointment? I’ll disappoint you…

By not curling up

In a ball

And dying

I’ll drink bitter cups

Break my fall

Keep trying.

Go ahead!

Arm your harmful army of loathing, pain, and lethargy

Assault every fault

Lay siege to my palpably, helplessly, bruised…self-esteem

 Be warned lord of scorn

Your festering fangs, flamboyantly scary, shall find themselves–

Effectively parried…

Despite all your spite

You shall fumble…tumble…and crumble

Before my personal arsenal of sensational might.

Depressing Demon, meet your last stand

And for that matter, last kneel, squat or sit…

Back to circle nine

It is thou who must quit.

Out come my tools

Retreat thyself quick!

With my wit…I will cut

Beware its sharp edges.

My satire…bites deep

Juvenalian it rages.

Sarcasm…mine also

Now you can trust us

And Irony…brings me

Poetic justice

I reject you rejection: my motto…my creed

I will feed, you no more, be starved…By positive deeds.

In your head

Is a sword

I’m alive

You’re dead.

Goodbye, Mr. Vanquished

Now it’s time

To get something published.