I've actually come to realize that the more confusing a poem is, the better the reader thinks it is. A long string of really big words get you major points. And if you actually want to saw something, to make some point or observation, don't ever directly state it. Just hint at it. Mention what you're going to say, don't say it, then turn it into some object or animal or something. They really go for that kind of stuff.

Confuse your reader into oblivion. It is your one and only job as a poet. Why explain what this or that means? That's what dictionaries are for. Poets strive to stretch and distort reality, blinding their readers with the thick smoke of simile, metaphor, and symbolism. Poets are word magicians, pulling meanings out of hats, stuffing false realities up their sleeves, and producing images and analogies from nothing but thin air.

Look at me go. Now I'm the hypocrite. Not I'm holding the trick deck and hiding behind the smoke and mirrors. Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up and let the Amazing Freudini astound you with his word magic! You'll leave feeling bad about yourself and mankind in general! Step right up, step right up...

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Past the scowling Avril-dolls, glowing in the blacklight,

And the preteen girls who love them, bedecked in spike chokers and drawn-on tattoos.

Past the Disney Store, where young children are molested by (hidden) obscene words and images.

If you know the secret password, the clerk will take you out back

And show you Uncle Walt's cryogenically frozen head.

Past the church where Jesus saves, by shopping at outlet malls.

Past the eggs in one basket that were counted before they hatched,

Past the babies thrown out with the bathwater,

Past the children who drowned because they swam too soon after supper,

And off a diving board into the shallow end.

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!