The Language of Poetry

Prose coming down verse knocking verse everywhere Without a hair to care around Cars parked on Boulevard drive never learned Can't propel myself dispite my write Flowers in the wind Nourishing reads my kin Poetics be my gin Stop and stepping down falling first Getting up in time for supp Prose coming down Verse knocking verse everywhere Without a hair to care around Marks nonsense you can not see A ray of light within the muck HOLIDAYS Drive my truck not one Curse it got stuck Driving academy needs GOING Dangerous places turning pages Numbering yearning alphabet churning A to Z My writes agree my pain do bleed stops and Starts Words that go no punctuation ALLOWED Be not proud For poets dreams poets streams a Mockery for poets scans a wasteland Of prose and frightful verse A free for all fall from GRACE a simple Face a constant RACE through time But Poetry my only kin my skin be thin as Gin poetry my only kin Intoxicating language bedevils Blessings be