An Artless Art

To The Establishment

-

All
Poets write
With words that flow
Straight from their hearts
-
In verse
Or not
-
As
Arrows
True delivered
And in style
-
Not erring on the side of fashion spent
Nor caring for the praise of others who
With feelings lost perhaps
Themselves decide to sit in judgement on
A Poets art
-
Such Poets write
In total innocence
Of those
Whose minds are locked
Within that wilderness of all that should be not
-
Such Poets write indeed oblivious
Of those whose pleasures grow
From comments sown in frost
Adherent to the crowd, and by so lost
Such Poets then deserve their honours due
Yet never sent
-
For their words may open windows
Too long blocked
That light may shine at last
On darkest dark establishment
-
Long kept
In guarded mystery
Defended and apart
By critics
Huddled in a circle
(members of an artless art)
-
All
Fearful
That one day
Somewhere
-
A Poet
Might
Just
Fart

_

Egal Bohen