I’ve seen, I’ve seen. I’m seen – obscene
This scene I’m seeing I’m disbelieving
Disagreeing, see:
Poetry is personal
Coz a person’s writing poetry
Your Post-Modern Times filtering rhymes,
A belly gripe that’s fine
Spewing lines sublime
Where bleak is chiq –
Even though it’s only truth you speak

And when the rage has run past blood
And the blood past remembering
It’s this truth I’m tendering –
Your art’s a part of your past’s new rendering
Where pain’s no stronger than reality
And love has more than parity.