A good poem is a flash back
To the ****** days we spend in bed
With that someone who knew what he was doing,
When we called out, they middle name,
“Oh God, oh ****, who would believe, you had
Christen him and name him on the same day.
They too in that moment had forgotten they true identity.
We never learn from our past,
flashback, alerts us, and those who cannot remember the
Past are condemned to repeat it.
A good poem, can only do one take
As someone, somewhere might yelled cut!
A good poem has taught us that
None of us is safe until all of us is safe
For the next ten years, during this pandemic
Take action, control those raging hormones,
And ugly man, might seem handsome,
But nothing to back it up with,
When, the blood rushes to one's brain:
Don’t be smitten by the lying tongue;
A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,