XXX HOT HOT HOT XXX

It seems the way,
to get noticed nowadays,
is not to write commentary
on how you were raised,
or to think and write,
in new or novel ways,
it seems the days,
of Ezra Pound,
and the cantos that he found,
in the shadows of Leaning Pizza,
are gone and dead,
and the hollow heads,
of youth issue not,
with thoughts,
of Immanuel Kant,
no, now the cantos sing,
that sex is the king,
of the fatherland of poetry,
and Intellect,
pro patria mori,
for it seems,
our hearts are ignored,
in favor of our Id,
and the poetry we write,
is frightfully insipid,
and yes,
this poet has written a few,
because it's not the worst thing to do,
but when your fellow poets,
read only those pieces,
which depict sex and sweat,
and ignore the meaningful works,
over which you truly toil and fret,
fit dulce,
et decorum est,
to find a way,
to share real thoughts,
the thoughts you fought,
for good or naught,
for and against in your head,
dialectic dialogue,
inside your head...
just keep on thinking,
till you are dead,
because later
while you in your coffin slept,
you went unremembered, unheard,
and unwept.