deepundergroundpoetry.com
Don’t Give Them What They Want
Wine,
beer,
alcohol,
whatever you call it,
never fails my muse.
No matter what these
poor souls
deduce,
oh, Jesus,
they just don’t have
the claws!
beer,
alcohol,
whatever you call it,
never fails my muse.
No matter what these
poor souls
deduce,
oh, Jesus,
they just don’t have
the claws!
Published 28th Feb 2015
| Edited 14th Apr 2015
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19th Apr 2015 11:25pm
Interesting analogy ... most poets don't have the claws ... We tend to be scavengers and bottom feeders who pick at the remains exposing the bare truth ... We need the wine and such to endure the stench ... Cool write.
