Or, At the bottom
Of an empty bottle of Vermouth?
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Poets think with their feelings
Not a very good thing,If you want to get ahead.But saying what you feel,Can be problematic too,So much depends on,Others thinking like you.In any case, my dears,All of life is problematic,You can’t win for losing,And you can’t remain static.
Those that know,
Can only live in deepest fright,When the Candidates they see,For sure will Swindle, you and me,All throughout long History,Nothing’s changed reality,We, the Serfs, still pay their fee.
Lucky me,
So rare to see,Of such great Beauty,In it’s simplicity,As it spoke of Love,So Romantically.Like a new born Rose,It’s perfume reached the heart,For it spoke of a love,That would never depart.
One poet inspires another
They practice,Fraternal, sentimental callsPlus have of Love, an overdose.
A rich interior life,
For the World is so polluted,Human ugliness, just mounts.In love with Art and Music,Not watching, the amounts,Intoxicating Beauty,That grows by leaps and bounds,The poet’s heart rejoices,To limpid, heartfelt sounds,Maybe a poem sees the light,As happiness is found.
The political scene,
Gone are mostKings and Queens,Monarchy, symbolic powerThat got substituted,By elected LiarsAnd Tyrannical Cowards,That produce nothingAnd only want perpetualPower,As they bleed peoplesAnd countries fromTheir protected towers.