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
Copyright © Val Brooklyn Rogers Blk Panther | Year Posted 2015
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