My distrust of you runs deep
after you banged my head in sleep
and called it an act committed in a terrible dream.

In this place poets care, share, and like
Encouraging each other along.
Lifting hearts up from deep trenches
of Ignorance, ill traditions, misconceptions and lies.
Drawing back curtains, just enough
to quench the masses ceastless wondering,
"There must be something more?!"

Your creative holy work has a great purpose!
Escorting the hopeful aspiriant to the place
Where the shadow dawns into explosive light!
Gently nudging, englightening cognizence of new awareness
As pieces of puzzlement merge into a glorious whole!

Dear Poets, you matter
Nevermore, doubt your place!!!
You are among the Inspiritors of the Earth!

Earth is gold dust
when not found.
But the found one
is only earth!

Amongst the desert, with its silence
broken by the cricket that does not sleep.
There is a tomb, your tomb, adorned by flowers.
With their beautiful everlasting Hughes of yellow and blue,
tainted, sun bleached, plastic flowers,
trash littered amongst your grave
tells the tale of someone forgotten. . .
In this tomb your name is carved,
with its letters lost to time,
& on moonlight nights,
under the basking of the stars,
amongst the waves of my damnation
I wish I had more time,
   I wish I you proud of me,
        I wish I could turn back time. . .
for even in death, I fail you.
    just look at your t̶o̶m̶b̶. . .
          I'm sorry. . .