The Newspaper, Then PoetBay, and, at Last, Direct Communication

I curse the morning paper's words,
The lies, the recitations of prevailing
Points of view. The thing that's killing
Cats, I think, cannot be curiosity,
As none would seem to have that
Trait. They never question what they're
Told. They follow orders. Then they
Die, and I move on to purple poems,
Symptoms of enfeebled minds,
And wince, and, when the pretty
Girl, here to visit from Japan, slips
Down the stairs and cannot speak,
And smiles only, I'm relieved.
I've had enough of words.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 81 times
Written on 2014-08-16 at 14:45

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text