Overzealous about the trash Then rust descends on the floor Campers line the forest beach Sands of surferÕs hints of hue Remembering the winter of you Had to climb the cliff so high Had to find the light of your face I was there one winter morn Silver hand sent love by phone Little, red the poor boy sat prone Then the sweeping tide of noon Then the snow day white around Then the wine, the truth the trunk Finally laying in my bunk Vomit sprays the horse wind sour There is not place that I have been To relate the common ground To the British with a limb Make that two, and love mixed stew Make that me and make that you Make me love you, make me true Whoops so long, I already do
A 17 year old calling a 48 year old a lightweight? Ironic. It is all over the place but not impenetrable. At least some themes can be drawn out, at least I think they can be? If your reader can't get a message, or even understand what you're saying, the problem is not with the reader but maybe with the way your present the message. Don't get defensive, just listen.
poetry doesnt have to contain themes it can incite the wildest imaginations of our mind, sometimes leave us with a single image or memory lingering in our minds long after. this is a very good poem right on man!
