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TheConcretePoet
Poems
Nov 2019
clean bib
at a loss,
a loss for words.
I *****, I scratch I claw,
for words with weight.
the deaf and blind ignore,
respect its clear, now out the door.
excuses flood a public forum,
caps lock and exclamation points,
the ignorant counter with hyperbole and erroneous nothings.
passion collides with patheticism,
followers flock to regurgitated utterings,
my bib is clean because this man doesn't eat what followers bring.
Written by
TheConcretePoet
Isle of Poet
(Isle of Poet)
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