Wrest

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Wrest

Wrest you weakling!
Wrest to prove the unscrupulous
That it ain't what they see of you
But what's inside you

This modern day of pedantry
People emblazoned in walls
Ineffaceable, indescribeable blot
They control the waves of the ocean
Change the direction of wind

For how long can these creatures perpetuate this apathy?
To satiate unsatiable gluttony
of power, lust, glory and fame...

Yet we genuflect dearly
That one day we could find placidity
And be saved from this besmirched society
O, 'tis my sincerest thoughts
As I now one in the relevant crusade
With which in the past I unconscientiously ignored

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

saccharine’s Poems (4)

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Utopia 0
Uncertainty 0
Paragon 0
Wrest 0

saccharine’s Friends (3)