the following is bad entomology from a worse anthropologist
must i paint the flowers too
those who will wait for the wicked days
when rain is promised
ground taking form of the air
the soap taking form of you
both holding the seeds of dirt
where a stem sits like
that dark thing there
the terrible thing you know too well
that tells you to do it
tear it down like the unliked
you you you you you you you
you the screams shouts yells
you the grinding of teeth gum bone
you are paint
you are pain
you are an ant
who will toil that seed from the soil
and feed it to the showered queen
already dripping fullness
from the men of yesterday
call me royalty
i always loved that
If the loyalty of the queen is royal.
How much honey sweetness you took.
Bugging from one poet to another.
Bugging are you, am I?
The sign of the jester flying by.
Caught quietly with the wink of his eye.
Thank you. I enjoy and appreciate poetry writing and poetry writers.