Father I must admit
That I am losing
My religion
Also I must tell you father
That I always go  late to bed
Because I am doing
The work you need  
To be done by me
And also
All my poems have
Different feelings
The feelings I use on
My poems are
Positive feelings
My negative feelings
I put then on the trush
To be dispose
The day the garbage men
Comes and collects my garbage
That I place every Monday
To the curb for pick up
The garbage men
Takes my garbage
On  Monday to
The land fill sight
To be dispose
And I never see
That garbage again
Father it was you that
Selected me to be you poet
Many years a go