I went to a great poetry night last night at Afflecks Place 3MT, its organised by Carly Bennett and Alex Klienburg, each week they choose a different theme, this weeks theme was Poetry for Plebs. In the spirit of the night I wrote this.
I'm not that cultured, I'm not that well read,
that's why I'm right at home at poetry for plebs.
I'm not adverse to culture or being well read,
it's just 80's telly is how I was fed.
My poems aren't high brow, I wouldn't call them art,
they're not cryptic, mostly rhyme and come straight from the heart.
But mixing in these circles I've come to the conclusion,
all art is subjective and exclusion an illusion.
Hearing other poets, I've also come to find,
that the pleb in me is just a state of mind.
From my trepid trepidation's from a world I felt apart,
I've come to realise all expression is a form of art.