Don't you hate it when you're trying to end a relationship, friendship or whatever ship you were sailing with someone all of a sudden they turn psycho-delic on you? Then they get more pissed cause you're not retaliating. The life of a stalker is a pretty dull one especially if his goal is to sit in his car in your neighborhood until his ass goes numb.
Well, I've experienced it and it's time to post my poem about a "commoner" and to help others understand why I won't ever date one again.

A commoner is someone who you have nothing in common with. Being physical is the only language understood but as far as anything else, it is totally foreign to him or her. See as poets you can't expect to be in a relationship with a commoner who has no skills. He/She should have at least one creative talent in order to understand where you're coming from...if not eventually it won't work. That's my opinion, so free your mind, express to me whether you agree or disagree.

Does a poet need to be with someone of his/her kind? or do you think a poet can educate the person they love into their lyrical universe?

I've dated my share of commoners and I seem to clash with those who don't appreciate the art world or the language of poetry. Having a cell phone stuck to your ear while you're walking around a museum is not the meaning of art appreciation or class.

Well, here is a poem dedicated to those commoners from the past, wherever you are.


UGLY
Let science mute my thoughts
Or maybe I should express them
Like an angry crow to let you all know
Why I won’t date a commoner

I can’t date a man like you who can’t relate
Someone who believes poetry is for those
Who think with their eyes and not with their feet

You analyze me and decide you are the one who can
Make me reach cloud 9
When in reality I was born under an aristocratic sun
Made of well-bred skies without the help of mankind
My skin is the color of euphoria
That’s why you crave to see through my windows
To get familiar with my scent
You desperately cling to me but my poetry don’t
Provide to you an ignorant fuck
just like my mind, it is committed to a natural habitat
of sensual gathering

What can you provide?
You the man of few words and whose diplomatic behavior
Is arrogant enough to stand trial at the ultimate stalker club

You can’t even hide the carbon monoxide red of your eyes
Or contain the jerkily giggles that make you sigh when
You cum beneath me pretending you can rule the world
Wait a minute
My world is not for sale
For I could tell after six orgasms
Midnight stars equaled
A dry spell
Shit
You can only rock my bell
In the bedroom when is hot as hell

How can you expect to get with this Beautiful Black Dictionary
When your pictionary is a type S for special unit of ugliness
A typeface piglatin whose scum breath spells useless sex
You think with your mouth and not with your head
Head me straight to reality cause then hopefully I can
Zoom-lensed your masculinity to all of New York City
Travel down the five boroughs to let them all know
You were the ho ho ho little giant who thought
Getting with me would make you the Tall Black Beautiful Man

Naturally
You made me weak

But weakness wakes up in the morning
Forget your ugly ass in the bed
Takes a shower
Stab loneliness away with a slip thong
Create solo sex with finger-licking avalanche
And I do it right
Cause I hold on to my scent
Get my freak on
Without Magnum or your Trojan friend
And I do it right
Cream filling in my hands
Your Twinkie not at all what it used to be
Only a spare tire I needed
When I felt hungry

See I won’t date a commoner
You got no skills
Can’t come correct
With lyrics and pornification

For now poetry is my mate
Until I can find the one
Who can swing his poetic balls at my face
Hmmmmmmm…
again what do I have in common with YOU?

© 10/06 by C. Delaleu