22nd March 2013
Poets dread
Where artists tread,
If they muddy the waters,
Recondite reprobates
They are read
Words sheathed in red peppery scabbards
Can bark and bite
Blooding the tissue
On which...
I
Their tongues are fountains of deception,
Their mouths run wild with segregation
Their hearts are tainted with corruption
They are antidotes bursting with poison.
To them, virtue is...