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  • Category: Community Poetry
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Taxes, Death and Fame

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Beware my key board friends

One wrong stroke be the end

By those who never papered a pen

Predator whom envy eye offends


Judges of never before

Against your rising hills

They who climb never more

Passionate poems they must kill


Form intellect from their spit

Heads held high against your wit

To be the largest part of your fall

Until the dance of that funeral call


Then their tongues begin their waggle

With eulogies of poet fair and dire struggle

Live longer than walls of China my friend

Send dollars to read his sold poetry again


This the draft of our flex against the dying light

Deciphering gophers of worldly wrong and right

Once our flames finds no more blame to fight

Few friends spade dirt on piney wooden night


Then fame marries our gravely name

Readers finally know our pain, our stain

With stories of blaring barring light

Preventing so right before came night


If only we could of met!

Yet here we stand now

As only a poet silhouette

Pre-cursing our shadows of death










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