I like nothing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: May 26, 2017

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Submitted: May 26, 2017



Poetry is the empty vessel

swaying in front of the static-ridden set

it is the feet that dangle in front of the Mrs.

the bottom that the rock refused to hit

It is not for your visit to the beach

your prancing in the meadow

with the butterflies and the doves

it is the crows at the body of a squirrel

the dance of death at your front door

It is not your mother and father

getting a divorce one fine spring evening

nor is it the death of your brother

your sister or even your favorite dog

It is the maggots that feed upon  the corpse

lurking in the place you are always afraid to look

not the rain or the snow but the moment of dread

waking up at 6 a.m. to a rising sun

there is no hope there is no laugh

there are poems whether you want them or not

that make your father look weak and your mother

well let's not talk about your mother you may get upset

or shall we regardless of how stormy you think you are

do not indulge for the sake of it

but expose the world for what it is

it isn't what you make it 

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