Was poetry The Angels tool or The Devils art?
Doesn’t matter, I’m just lost on the thought of value.
The gift we all have, and some prick decides to make value.
Literally “value” was created and has not always been here.
“Talk about stuck in a world you don’t fit in.”
And somehow words are losing its depth to the world.
A new world made out of mash potatoes…
I guess that makes me the gravy.
Words without definition have no purpose in this world,
“What’s the point of this?”
That’s why most things don’t exist..to you and I.
“suppressed they are, that’s the point.”
Before I get misunderstood, all can agree–that poetry retains and holds pieces and fragments of the being writing. We come across a lot of empty things in our lives.
Empty promises for example, but the moral of the pitch is–
C. B Wagner