WHILE they look up,
we poets look around,
theres a story here, a
broken song, a picture
with just fake smiles,
a shape with out details,
and a comb with out hair,
and a jumping into what? ,
they soak us with their
war, include us in their hate,
and dazzle us with their
mighty shit, then point at
you, us, and we, then say,
do you agree.
NO, , the poet screams, , , no.

DAVID GERARDINO

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-the-poet-screams/