Dear Miss Grammar

Words. Mispilled.

Modifiers dangling at the

wrong places, having stared too long

into your turquoise eyes

The sparkles in them fall

into my run-on sentences of deliberation

like punctuations; little commas

with an attitude that divides my manhood

and stubborn periods

that keep everything

I say and do  in line.


You don’t need to control my words

You’re on my mind, in my heart,

down to the bottom of my soul,

across from my sight like a phantom,

all about me and all the way through me


This is what you do best

These subtle distortions

of a man’s prepositions


This is what you do best

The forceful reduction

Of  a man’s expression

to mere adjectives for your existence


And you, being always plural,

will never agree to be the subject of my romance

for I, being perpetually single due to my

pathetic inability to talk to beautiful girls,

I am the lame verb in the wrong tense

with taped retro glasses and jeans that are

so last-century-ago, without the sizzle


That is why in English,

a sentence’s subject is never changed

for the sake of the verb

for it is definite, written in stone,

while the verb, so meagre and hopelessly in love

suspends his life with the decisions you make.



  1. Rex Ryan · August 14, 2011

    Youre so cool! I dont suppose Ive read anything like this before. So nice to find somebody with some original thoughts on this subject. realy thank you for starting this up. this website is something that is needed on the web, someone with a little originality. useful job for bringing something new to the internet!

  2. slpmartin · August 12, 2011

    What a witty and clever poem…enjoyed it.

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