Dear lord let
some gullible sucker
with bread for brains
and enough money
for my needs
read these emails
I have so carefully
and casually
prepared to trap him;
and let him (or her)
believe in something
for nothing,
for it is all I have
(or want)
to give.
Let him believe
I am his bank
I am his road to riches
I am his answer
to a futile life.
And let him believe
I am as stupid
as he is.
And let him believe
my appeal to
his greed
his weakness
his utter naïveté.
I don’t care
if this con creates
cynicism or paranoia
I don’t care
if this scheme creates
despair or suicidal thoughts:
I just want mine
and I want it soon.
Amen.
[A message for those (not you, of course, dear reader) who are wondering about my motives for writing the above: This is irony, folks! — just in case someone has bread for brains, and thinks I mean this . . . .]
Oh dad your preyer’s prayer has taught me that reading a beautiful poem is like receiving communion… without the holy ghost. No wholey ghost but the holey ghost. the communion wafer in the hands of the Preyer is missing a prayer’s spirit and the host is burnt satan’s toast( Which is not so bland, but hellish).
Even worse is my part as the poets critic for my scalpel is but a butchers blunted boning knife. And whose belly will I ever fill with these intestines of mixed metaphor and pun.
Gudgey:
I am not sure what you are saying, but I defend to the death your right to say it.
Thanks for taking part, Sunny. Glad you are reading the good stuff.
It’s called irony… bread for brains. People don’t do communion cause they’re hungry for bread dad!…er And I meant the finest bread, when I called you bread for brains. I mean soaked in cognac with eggs and cream and cinnamon stick at least 6 hours. Oh and that bread for brain comment was about meaning the opposite of what you say cause you know the person isn’t insecure…. Oh yeah and actually dad, I like the way you centered the meaning of an entire poem around a pun.
This comment you got cast in the roll of bread for brains….
Last comment I cast myself in the roll of mr. bread for brains, by being concerned with the daily bread ( the pitiful wafer) of one upping the old man by dissecting the flesh of his poem but only getting as far as gutting the corpse which was initially (of course): everything giving in christs love; Everything giving in the love between a Father and a son. So here you are writing this prayer and all I can offer is criticism, when deep down in my heart I want to let my poet shine through with love. A prayer is a call to the spirit realm not a stolen loaf of man’s daily bread.
bread = cash when it isn’t baked with love.
so dad this is where I can find you eh? mmmmm See you in a bit… Oh yeah and could you put a spell check in here so I can have some credibility. Oh yeah ,can you get mom to check my grammar?
Now I am getting you. You were being way too deep for my bread. Ta. About the spell-checker: I have looked into it. It is possible, although the slicker, method is for you to hook a spell-checker into your browser, because an on-line spelling database can be slow. I use Firefox’s spelling plug-in. It works really well.