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(The last time the poet had this much fun, she’d taken some brain vitamins and spent the whole night in a tent, writing a round one dozen new works of poetry.

Of course, those poems were of an affirmative, informative and uplifting nature.

Oh, well.

The new works today are what happens when she takes hatred vitamins instead. 

The American public ~ or at least the members of it who take the trouble to parade by her van every day and night making stupid insulting noises, treat her rudely in public venues of business and scream imprecations for doing nothing but parking legally ~ will be much more comfortable with these.)

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Recorded Reading (1:01): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/vktj4zy3aqgktrpjj5pcc/I-Honk-My-Horn.wav?rlkey=36nh6ajvknf8al7d7vfad6gzs&dl=0

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I Honk My Horn

I Honk my horn for injustice
I Honk my horn for pain
I Honk my horn because by it
I methamphetamine gain

They said that she deserves it
They said that she was bad
A cavalier attitude
Toward the information had

What business is it of mine
If witnesses were false
And records made inaccurate?
I’m doing my own little waltz!

That little smirk upon my face
Says I am ignorant
Of just how obviously amateur
Is my malificent intent

But I’m hopped up, so I think I
Have more street smarts than you
I can run this errand
And get out of your view

And go enjoy my high, secure
The vast illusion in
That everybody and his uncle
Doesn’t know about my sin

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This poet is physically disabled. Public housing being insufficient to her medical and creative needs, she is presently living, in order to continue working, in her minivan, publishing all of her works using one thumb on the touch screen of her smartphone, surviving at an income of a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. She would treasure any donation you might care to offer ~ http://www.UgiftABLE.com ● #72D-31S.

Please be aware that it takes several days for the poet to be notified of contributions. International patrons please contact the poet via email or post a comment for the necessary numbers.

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