Highfalutin’ Poetry

Jerome A. White

Highfalutin’ poetry
You pique my insecurity
A pompous plethora of platitudes
An abundance of ostentatious, aggrandizing SAT words that I barely understand
Assembled in pretentious literary concoctions that I don’t understand at all

Highfalutin’ poetry
Refusing to let me past the velvet red rope
Looking me up and down
Disapproving smirk duly noted
Casting my intellectual credentials into doubt
What must I do to get my name on the guest list?

Highfalutin’ poetry
I can’t stand you, honestly
Congregated in dimly-lit spaces
Delicately sipped beverages and cleared throats (ahem)
In preparation for pending profundity
Name-dropping notables in attempts to align with authentic artistic achievers
Invoking exaggerated intonations intended to instill imagined importance
Perceiving pity-applause as sincere appreciation that promotes your
Murky musings to something memorable
Interpreting expressionless stares as immersion in deep thought when in fact the
Audience has drifted oceans away in your vast waters of de-lumination

Or is it me?
Am I the one standing on the outside of a well-orchestrated orgy of blissful delusion?

Highfalutin’ poetry
Methinks you’re making fun of me
I believe you’ve noticed that too often
I can’t discern the “good” stuff from the utter crap
Countless contemporary crackpots
Stroke my sensibilities no more than the nonsensical swill spewed at the
Coffee shop’s all-too-open mic

Highfalutin’ poet of the day
Won’t you throw some truth my way?
Amongst recitations of the heralded hits
Do you ever fling a flaming chunk of hot garbage
Just to see if anyone notices the difference?
Or do the fingers just keep on snapping?

Highfalutin’ poetry
What happened to simplicity?
You claim to purvey pure, honest enlightenment
Yet you leave me soiled in cynicism

In my younger days
Seuss and Silverstein inspired
Pleasingly playful yet powerful persuasions towards deeper truths
But now you’re screwin’ it all up
Climb down from Mt. Grandeur and speak some frikkin’ English for God’s sake!
I didn’t go to my Highfalutin’ university just to find that I need a
Ph.D. in B.S. in order to know what you’re talking about
I listen to your highfalutin,’ disingenuous, disembodied dribble and feel




Sad like the tribal cry of a three-eyed hermaphroditic archangel slumped under an
Emaciated golden kumquat tree that bears no fruit beneath the
Sun-drenched eyelash of the virgin butterfly

See how that feels sucka?

Highfalutin’ poetry
Come over here, sit on my knee
I don’t mean to be unkind
But word-abuse should be a crime
The gig is up, you’re past your prime
Your largest bill ain’t worth a dime
So step aside, you had your time
Bring back the fun, revive the rhyme

Highfalutin’ poetry
I’ll end this brief soliloquy
Let’s not agree to disagree
You’re clearly not the poem for me