Emotion of Disgust

Emotion of Disgust - by Bob Atkinson softly settled to my ears those words I wished to hear brought me to a higher level when written well, so treasured waiting patiently among the throng of citizens, no guns a gentle lot of doers well those who praise art and tales standing up to do their best to settle for all the rest of us a trumpet sound of sculpted tones ones with meaning held upon a field of life, pages open emotional tags, sometimes spoken carry me to advanced nirvana please read good words, not trivia when they speak these honored verses so well received and prizes awarded my hand reaches for the door so I might escape these awful chords no, they don't speak for me blank faces in the audience form so simply irrelevant purpose one's only good intent when sung accolades flow quickly a million sold six months a pittance poetry had come of age yet nobody knew or accepted change Chandos lamented openly no quotes from us, our poetry were made outside our borders were not champions of language order thought about this for a while remembered friends in distant lands who spoke Germanic languages different no English were they aware of meanings yet sung our tunes with impassioned voices wildly swinging arms to chorus the words meant nothing to their minds but beat with rythyms to their hearts timed