by Shareen Knight
Oh you young whippersnappers,
vampires flinging down your words
like petticoats, not stones,
don’t call your mother a whore
and stop blaming my generation
for all your woes.
Take up a pen, if you must, but please stop
your simpering prose. First, name a grandchild
or two. Wait until you’ve crossed the country
a time or two. Slept beside the road in Big Sur,
then you’ll know the price of rice.
That is if you don’t run straight home from such a rude waking.
Wait until you’ve tried a dozen or more professions
before you try to tell anyone how hard it is
on the soft side of your lazy life. Then, we will listen.
Because you’ve paid the price of admission.
And, it will show.
So, keep writing.
And talking your game.
You’ll get there, if you’re not too careful.
Shareen Knight is an artist and playwright who loves images and the rhythms created by words.