27 February 2020

#27 - Wait... what was the question?

This poem was supposed to be about the Chupacabra, a mythical dog-like creature sighted in countries in South and Central America, as well as parts of the United States. The poem ended up being about imposter syndrome and the limits of trying to predict the future. I don't know, go figure! Anyway, the name 'chupacabra' literally translates to 'goat sucker' - which is gross. So, there!

Don’t let the gods of fortune boss you round
(the Fates can take the piss a little bit)
disaster follows some folk in a crowd
and life can be an oyster, filled with grit.

Don’t let imposter syndrome grind you down

shrug off the jeers of “Fraud!” and “Hypocrite!”
Taking risks can lead to the profound;
there’s satisfaction popping every zit!

Uncertainty shouts in a voice so loud

to render optimism counterfeit.
Confidence, unfettered and unbound,
is like an STI. So, go! Transmit!

Ignore the voice that tells you not to fight;
it's potent as a Chupacabra's bite.*


This is a Nightjar (also called a Goat Sucker) 

*i.e. not very potent, coz Chupacabra's aren't real. Or, they're only as real as you believe them to be. A bit like imposter syndrome really. "Oh, clever! I see what you did there!"

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