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.