Great are those hairs
You'd hear tho' shame's on 'em
Dropping shoulders, short or long
of 'em literary father's in literary arrogance
They are deying yet their fruits to be better fools still
as they'll surely sleep. So they ignore the calls of little ones wiser than 'em wisest so?
So?
You say, "So?"
You're one, so
Pathetic scalps with long long long... robes of respect with ought not
Infamous trophies around thy reeking neck reeking your
Golden, deary diamonds ouvres aye.
Of what glories yet be as you grown you groan on
On us young hands to be as they whitish worn out fleshes
Decompose forming manure force for plants, weed's gross
Whilst the same marbles or woods making your sepulchral seats
Stir on well yet whilst your scalp break by the pecking of termites
As also beastie oily pigs dig your tombs for thy innards to gulp?
©2017
That is ma message to writers who are old enough, provably beyond 50, looking down condescending young ones that we know naught [perhaps]. #old #poets #poetess #legacy #love #hate #fame #polularity #art.
