the losers, report me to the bad poets society, bad student loansΒ , 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