O poets!- K. B

O ye who is following me, you don’t reach my ankle and I ain’t no sextoy for tenderness.

O poets !

O poets, kings of heaven
Brought to you by the curtesy
Of pepsi cola
We fight and we bleed
A shrink might say
That’s too intense,
That’s nonsense.
Well has he seen death
Yet?
I guess his cushions smell
Lavender
I guess his food is ready
On time
I guess his wife never misses
Dance class
And yet,
They remain dissatisfied.
I ain’t better but I could see
Some envy behind his glasses.
O poets, kings of heaven
Brought to you
By the curtesy of pepsi
Cola,
Stars in the night of men,
Living in bright appartments
Transfigured,
Our hearts ache
For a perfect love.
The cold strips
Us from lines
And the hungry stomach
Asks for food
And yet,
The poets persists
In forgetting what makes
Him human, cherished
Or fostered
As if living in exile

From the heavens
From which he came…

And to which he returns
Triumphantly
Every night
Aftet the day’s emptiness.
Yes, poets are honored
For being sensitive
By women
And men,
Tears dropping
Like diamonds
And pearls
To irrigate
The soil of mankind
With feelings forever…

K. B

All rights reserved. 2019.

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