This poem –
And equally useful to to editors
For the poet
All the comrades of the craft:
few ideas
about “verbs burning through people's hearts”.
poetry?!
Trifle.
Joke.
And to me these jokes terribly.
In his mind's eye eyeing Federation –
ready to scream in pain and I have to fight.
Throughout the district –
twenty thousand poets curved in an arc.
From sedentary life dried up into a bundle.
starve.
With elbows bare.
But Denny and night
tow and tow
hearts of innocent people “verbs”.
I wrote.
Done.
The question – burned a?
burned a!
And the heart and even side.
Only if the herd will understand poetry,
that heart
burned –
exclusively with shame.
dishes:
He sits some bruiser
(you never know words in Russian have?!).
And he
pull,
as the pin from the sludge,
trifle,
kotoryya facilitate zaryfmoplest.
A lot of my only weapon in the language of such nonsense,
to itself
bell
I climbed into the ears?!!
selects…
and again otchesyvaet vycheski,
so that the image was “classical”,
“poetic”.
Vycheshut…
and again they groan:
like iambic editor barking.
And try
in iambic
go and shove
any word,
eg, “mammal”.
Sweat properly
over a large sheet.
A side only
On the narrow klochochke
stubby lines stretched worm.
But other –
commas some point yes.
Good language took and crumble,
nothing just pennies spent on training.
As amended by
poets such gang,
that editor chronic bile spill.
gang elbows,
push doors,
courier shouts: “crammed bastards!”
Not of this world –
They are silent.
Therefore, in the rare rays of luck.
Is that too editor zatalmuditsya,
and will be able to surprise him shove
some
pozaproshlogodnih
zalezhavshuyusya “vesnišku”.
AND, finally,
issuer,
over nonsense snorting,
Scoring small cuts petitikom
and plug the hole for a hole in verse,
parents on the mountain and to the delight of critics.
And climb increments for typesetter and typist.
it is clear –
gaining and frown.
I have one solution Otlezhal:
help people.
And what a pity!
(Especially handy proposal by the spring b,
when the verse is read the entire NEP.)
I am not against such poetry.
by no means.
The spring pulls on the melancholy nud.
But Down needlework!
What may be old
handicraftsmen?!
As a master of the case
(me not Trailers)
I will tell you about the universal recipe-with.
(News and,
that my actions
Therefore, replacing editorial couriers.)