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Feb 2010
This poem has no title, this poem has no rhyme, this poem needs no pages, this poem is a crime. This poem is a liar, this poem is a joke, this poem is a makes a mockery of all the intellectual folk. This poem is no savior, this poem is no king, this poem does not sparkle, this poem does not sing. This poem has no title, it author has no name, it's words are all but final, and if they are it'll be a shame. This poem is a liar, this poem is a joke, the words of a 'never was', a man about to choke. This poem holds no grudges, the poem places no blame, this poet is a player, in a cruel and unforgiving game.
Richard Allen Pogue
Written by
Richard Allen Pogue  In the atmosphere
(In the atmosphere)   
891
 
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