To The Establishment <br /> <br /> <br />All Poets write with words that flow <br />Straight from ones heart <br />In verse <br />Or not <br />As <br />Arrows <br />True delivered <br />And <br />In style <br />Not erring on the side of fashion spent <br />Nor caring for the praise of others <br />Who <br />With feelings lost <br />Perhaps <br />Might <br />Decide <br />Themselves <br />To sit in judgement on <br />A Poets art <br /> <br />For Poets write <br />In innocence of those <br />Whose minds <br />Are locked <br />Within that wilderness <br />Of all that should be not <br /> <br />For Poets write <br />Indeed <br />Oblivious of those <br />Whose pleasures grow <br />From comments <br />Sown in frost <br />Their superiority <br />Assumed <br />Adhering to the crowd <br />And by so <br />Lost <br /> <br />Those Poets then deserve <br />Their honours due <br />But never sent <br />For their words <br />May open windows <br />Too long blocked <br />That light <br />May shine at last <br />On darkest <br />Dark <br />Establishment <br />Long kept <br />In guarded mystery <br />Defended <br />Set apart <br />Existing artificially <br />By critics <br />Huddled in a circle <br />(Members of an artless art) <br />All fearful <br />That one day <br />Somewhere <br />A Poet <br />Might just fart<br /><br />Egal Bohen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/artless-art/
