My Command To Poetry Soup
My Command to Poetry Soup:
Over Forty Thousand The Group:
Keep your records of my poems
Between ‘Motiveless’ and ‘With-Whims’;
In your cherishing software lodge,
Destroyers surface you just dodge…
Let them – yes – in secret files stay,
The Heavens and Earth to pass away.
Each had occurred in sharp flashes
And out of weightless mind dashes!
Verse-retrieving mind poorly shines,
Trust me, I’d call up but few lines;
So Angering and Demonic
Weakness Fighting The Harmonic
Thus, if lose I do a copy
You and I, rashly, The Sloppy;
The same: my Uploaded Short Stories,
Now forty-three, Number hurries!
No longer command: Make The Promise
Not A Halved Single shall I miss.
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