Really Bad Poetry
Jan. 10, 2002 ] 12:18 AM
A tired, useless turgid waste of words.
A dull manipulation of precious soul,
Irony burns in shameful flaguration,
With blame assigned to fulgurous eye.

Such tawdriness demeans human identity,
Diminishes the rapturous human soul,
An art in words seeking to procreate,
Failing that, renders skill immobile,
And flattery inflated beyond all else.

wax ] wane
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