Critiques Poem by RIC BASTASA

when they read your poem
and find some fleas there
and they scratch their heads
like saying: this is bad, this is really bad
and they crumple your poem
and throw it in their waste basket

and they junk the best poem you
have written taking you days and days to revise it
like it is a composition
of another nincompoop. a moron, a lesser kind of
the human being
like a bubble, a bumble, a bum, a belle, a keg,
a piece of feces
a ning nang nang nang

well, write another one.do not ever stop writing.

if you find the one that they have thrown in the waste basket
again, by chance,
redeem it,
take it back and iron out what difference have you
with that critique
(who has not written even a poem for his dog)

have patience. and always remember
you did not write the poem for him
you write it for you and your lover
and your loved one,
and another lover and many more lovers
of life and its
ecstacies

till kingdom come
be patient.
be ever patient.
it is you who has

seen the light. not them.

open another door.
go inside where your lovers dwell.
they will kiss you.
they will clap their hands
and drink beer with you.

and it will be dark again,
and you cannot sleep after you make love.
three times on the floor
and there and then
in your nudity
another voice comes inside your ears
asking that you write
about a floating blue butterfly
looking for the opening
of an orange
flower

another poem shall be written
early morning
be glad
the voice is still there

your shrink may tell you to name the voice.
for he thinks you are schizephrenic
to the max

do not tell him.

it is your secret with God.
be glad.write it.now.