"My work may be garbage but it's good garbage." Mickey Spillane
None of you write as well as I do.
None of you blog as well as I do.
You want to spread lies around like pastries at a tea party?
You and your shallow lives.
Your petty vindictiveness at trivial insults.
Your egos without substance like rattling poltergeists
When you, with your comfortable lives
your minor inconveniences
Have walked through the halls of hell
and emerged alive
Perhaps then, you will have earned the right to speak
and be heard.
Because then you will have something
genuine to say.
For now you continue
to spout your shallow claims to empty profundity
while your non-existent souls find
no place to prove you deserve
Shelley knew of what he spoke
And all these fools ‘neath ego’s yoke
Are shattered on the desert sand
to be forgot before they stand
Little men of little worth
With empty words do they give birth
To fiction lacking in earnest heart.
Emptiness doth they impart