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The poet turns upon his Sullied birthright

I have picked at sentiment as if it were a scab, jeering the remnants to the crowd as proof
And betrayed myself to those who would
Absolve me
I have sung in choruses of ill repute, lip-synching the forgotten lines
And when the literati had all but
Given (scorn), I pointed to the darkness like a traitor
And watched their coattails




(catch the waning moon)


ebb slowly into the night
I have assailed the unrequited like
the darkness conquers a Saskatchewan sky
Mesmerizing myself with the breadth of failure



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The following comments are for "The Poet Turns upon his Sullied Birthright"
by happykafka

Poet Turns
Great poetic voice. I look forward to more from you - I'm glad you are here!

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: September 29, 2010 )





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