This is the parody of a sad poem,
trying itself not to be a bad poem,
it tries to poke fun on creative licensed types,
their real and imaginary melancholy vibes.
Though it begs to differ and be different,
this poem is by no means indifferent,
to poetic unjustice suffered and imposed
which numerous pages in hard cover enclosed
it is neither too classical nor a bit modernistic,
the incumbent poet prefers not to be called artistic.
having outgrown his own drunk depressive ways,
it tries to clear a path through the poetic haze.

why poetry lost ground sucessively
to the short story and detective novel progressively,
and now it’s gotten much worse,
people twitter about and claim it as verse.
who cares if you missed your daily prozac
,as long as you stay poetically on track
neither bore the reader nor fool yourself,
keep the poem simple , without a whistle or a bell
and nature is not meant to be invoked
in stand alone poems and then revoked
poisoning the air with many stale cigars
many mediocre authors take to poetic farce

again this is a parody
of poems and not of any contemprary authors
they write worse and sell more
this is not what really bothers
but the farce they inflect
can sometimes rebound and infect
an unsuspecting reader or two
having started reading needless feels blue
so i say to you unknown reader,
this pledge you should take
the next sad poem you see,
dismiss that as a fake
