the sun rises in rose fleshed bounty
but it doesn’t cut my ******* lawn
the whispered prose of the wind splashed water
doesn’t pay the bills
tree arches steadily toward the arc of the stars
yet it can’t wash my car
for all the beauty the world revels
what the **** has it done for me lately
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
the sun rises in rose fleshed bounty
but it doesn’t cut my ******* lawn
the whispered prose of the wind splashed water
doesn’t pay the bills
tree arches steadily toward the arc of the stars
yet it can’t wash my car
for all the beauty the world revels
what the **** has it done for me lately
poetry is probably the one of the most unnecessary things and that is it's beauty
