Written Invitation

Pen crusade comes to a victorious conclusion. Or has the poetic safari just started under way? As I give John Hancock my approval, Immovable decision is my signature. My writing hand must release the poetize child into a mysterious world, Knowing a critic is born on every street corner. Years will permit; The good, The bad, And O! The Ugly. The pretenders of poetry parties, "Poetical taste I drink from Champagne Glass." "O' by the way, tasteless! They must give up the pen." One ear & out the other I shall remain, For the realm they know, Fistful beer bottle soul. Some in gentleness of correctable hearts, I can only pray for this kindness in every way. Cereal box reading others comprehend. Some in love, Simply lie in words, "Yes, a masterpiece!" O' Lord, Please. Downfall this is indeed! Truth is like salt on an opened wound, Insanity within shorten delay, Time takes away the pain. Than, Those who seem average, The astonishment sometimes bring the poet to shame, Only to invite overwhelming joy. From the writer's womb to nursery's heart of mine, I give the un-wondered, Public arena, Permission. What ever becomes of my child, Glory in the million of books, Or crucify to the extreme.