Remember When ?

 
Poetry was rough
we'd slap ass
with a paddle
till the red was blue

Competition
was sharp
could cut a crater
through a leg
then heart

Tears flowed through
mountains of emotion
just to say
GOOD MORNING

and we baked
bread
tarts
cake

with love
to bring them
as offerings
to the Gods

laced with humor
thought out
placed meticulously
and
enbedded with love
between tags


And


No one owned the place

it was just "they".