I'm a Poet, Damn It!
He said he was a poet
And he came by
His right to be sullen and moody
Most righteously
He said this with
With outrage and indignation
I wondered
What kind of an excuse
Is that?
Was that?
Could I be moody
And call myself a poet
Just like that
At a snap of fingers
Which brings to mind
I could now snap my fingers
Unforgivingly
I could even walk down the street
Snapping my fingers
And people from all over
Would come up to me
And ask me what I think I am doing
I could just look at them
With this smile on my face
And say
I’m a poet damn it!
But that’s not all
There is more to this story
I got run out of New York City
For being a poet
I lived on 76th street near Riverside Drive
My apartment was the size of a Twinkie
But it had a terrace
There were no rooms
It was a closet with a bath
One night
Not too late
I decided to perform poetry
From my terrace
Overlooking the Henry Hudson River
I would rain words down on society
Every unassuming passerby
Would be enabled
No empowered to hear my poetry
I dressed in black
And snapped my fingers a lot
As I bounced my words
Down to the sidewalk
People looked up at me
And smiled
Some would wave
Some would say hello
Some would curse at me
Some would laugh
The beautiful women
Who lived
Across the street
Continued to parade naked
In front of the window
I never knew if it was for my benefit
Or their own
There were three of them
All blonde and
I appreciated my view
Of river and beauty
I appreciated that I could
Poetize spontaneously
Without combusting
For a moment I felt
Just like a poet damn it!
And that moment seemed
To last a lifetime
I hung on to that
Terraced poetic perfection
With my last words
Suddenly
Sirens rifled May air
A huge searchlight
Scanning the building
For outlaws
It was before police helicopters
Were made legal
To chase scofflaws
The beam searched
Relentlessly for words left hanging
From the walls
A blue-suited megaphone
Shouted
Up into the apartment hierarchy
YOU UP THERE
They searched
For the disturber of the peace
They wanted him to identify himself
And come forward
The women across the way
Got dressed
Alerting me to the dangers lurking below
Where New York’s Finest
Danced in criminal pursuit minuet
Searching for my desperate tune
I disguised myself in a trench coat
And slipped outside
Without benefit of I.D.
I politely asked the head cop
What they were doing?
What was going on?
Was there a murder I asked?
He shook his head
Was there a break-in I wondered
For there was massive manpower
Now on West 76th street
Four cop cars
With bubblegum machines blazing
Stopped all traffic on the street
I would have no more audience
The cop with megaphone was serene
Going about his business with
Dirty Harry mentality
He kept shouting for me
To stand down and surrender
Only I was not there
I was standing next to him devil may care
Not making his day
I asked again
What’s going on?
He replied with
Clint Eastwood finality
There’s someone up there
Talking to people
Without permission
And we are here to stop him
He is endangering the community
Disturbing the peace
And you need this show of force
To detain him?
I inquired
The cop squawked
He is armed and dangerous
From what we have been told
He might be loaded I thought to myself
But armed and dangerous?
I looked around
Scratched my head
Showed I was on his side
I whispered
He is a poet
Damn it!
Larry Jaffe
© 1999
Unprotected Poetry
version 3.0
i had unprotected poetry last night
it was unexpected you know
spontaneous and we did not use anything
we just went at it to keep the mood
it was incredible but not safe
and now i am worried
cause it can be infectious and dangerous
to say things without a condom
it could be disastrous to speak without protection
and a guy should not have unprotected poetry
he should take more responsibility than that
not just leave it up to the girl
what kind of guy would just go off
without some sort of protection
what are the consequences
i’m not sure and now i’m scared
it was so irresponsible of me
to have unprotected poetry
to not even ask or consult
her about poetry control methods
she might be using or gulp not using
what if she gets poetically pregnant
and wants to have my poem
or worse what if she has some kind
of poetically transmitted disease
you know ptd or what if i do
and we have to wait to see what happens
taking regular poetry tests to see if we’ve got it
but wow we actually did it last night
we had poetry
how many people in this day and age
have pure unprotected poetry
we should be thankful for that
after all it was good poetry
we both really enjoyed it
we soared like angels without wings
never coming down just coming
poetically that is
what a high to hit that climax and feel
like you will never ever be mortal again
now that you have had unprotected poetry
who can protect you
now that you have had unsafe poetry
and want to do it again and again and again
cause you know it just don’t feel the same
with a poetic condom
it blocks off the all feeling and the flow
and the words
the words
are stopped short with safe protected poetry
and i personally will never write that way again
Larry Jaffe
© 1998
From the sensually romantic to humor to social commentary, Jaffe impacts audiences with a rich emotional range, masterfully crafted. His poetry appears in numerous anthologies, magazines, and on the Internet where he has pioneered Web sites that feature poetry of others as well as his own. His recent books include Unprotected Poetry, Hate’s Not Natural, Winter Rose, and Jewish Soul Food. At the Moondog Cafe in Hollywood, Larry hosts PoeticLicense, rated one of the hottest, high-energy venues in Southern Cal. He strives to provide a safe haven for poets to bring their works alive. He has been featured throughout the country in various poetry venues and has been a featured poet at numerous festivals and forums.
Poetry critic Mike Cluff recently stated, “The best feature I have heard this year anywhere took place at Mc Clain’s on the 27th of July. Larry Jaffe, gave a wonderful performance that was wow-inspiring. His presentation was a lively, intense, well-modulated, emotional read: precise and never over-the-top, forced or phony.” Larry reports every other month to the poetry folks at the About Poetry Museletter.
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