the losers,
report me to
the bad poets society,
bad student loans , bad poems
bad boys and girls society
taste, head rearing, daring
elegance, shocking awe,
fk that looks it like be a poeming **** forming,
ah, the teenie weenies millies become white walking whiners
write a poem about the sky,
never using the word blue black
or grey
Then, use it to
tell me why the
Paris dead
matter
the most remarkable feature
of the sky is its endlessness,
no matter what the colour of the day be,
for what else can you point to
beside the sea,
that simply visible
has no boundaries?
I will tell you.
see my grieving rage
boundaryless,
for the Paris dead,
and there is no colour,
just one dead blanched black rose
placed upon my chest,
soiling my face,
a visible reminder that
forgetting is
endless, colourless,
rage and revenge
too