To convey worlds,
Never seen or that never stood,
This, the Poet does,
And if successful,
A reading must.
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Nobody’s perfect,
Be, the least mean, we can,By putting on hate and ignorance,A total and lifelong, ban.
Tar and feather
Liberal Press,So I don’t depress,And believe,All Your impossible Lies!
Not long on words, writer,
And I really hate abuse,To be taken for a silly goose,My best friend is the Truth.
Poets are a strange ol’ bunch,
Words and feelings, intertwine,Making Some of them, divine.
A great painting keeps its beauty,
A great book stays under cover,A great poem speaks to you,But it’s we, the proud and prejudice,That have so much to regret,Who never know how good we have it,Till it’s time to go to rest.
We all want to shock,
Some do it negatively,By throwing verbal rocks,Or printing evil blocks,Or lying to each other,Thinking that that way,They’ll hit harder,And negatively get farther.