Really?
That was the applause I get
for Opus 301?
That’s all?
Why the hate?
Why don’t you appreciate my work
as much as you should have?
I know that I swallowed a couple of words
here and there
and misread that phrase near the end
but the poem
it spoke for itself
didn’t it?
DIDN’T IT?

I shouldn’t have to tell you this
but that poem you just heard?
It was really well-constructed.
I mean, there were two parallel allusions
running through the whole thing.
Did you notice that?
It was fairly rad,
you ask me.
The alliteration was pretty potent,
too. Frankly,
the work was subtle
– maybe too subtle –
but otherwise,
truly excellent.

I don’t get it.
is this audience
eighty percent retarded?
I mean
I’m not judging.
More power to you
but if you’re primarily of the mongoloid persuasion
couldn’t you have let me know
before I let my heart and soul out for you?
I mean
why waste my time?

Not for nothing
but tonight
I met a spoken word booker,
beautiful and charming
who could easily
have improved my career a hundredfold
and my ejaculations twice that.

She said she would stay
to watch my performance
and I smiled my secret smile
knowing that this
was a pivot moment
and my life would be forever changed.

And here I am
and here you are,
clearly unimpressed
and the booker
– or promoter. I didn’t really listen –
is gone
and she’d probably have stuck around
if you reacted the way
you were fucking supposed to
and my life is just the same.

I don’t blame you
– not entirely.
All the craft
all the technique
all the skill in the world
can’t help
if I’m not saying something interesting.
Sure,
you may appreciate the skill I brought
but if I didn’t bring it
to something worthwhile,
where are you then?

Not here
of course.
I did an amazing job.
I don’t know what’s wrong with you losers.
Clap, you fuckers:
clap!