You worry too much about Washingtons, son!
You should only use your pen for fun!
What I smell is debt, a dangling death,
and greed that feeds on the needs
of all these fellow Americans.
I implore you, wielder of words,
don’t shrink from the heaven of contentment.
Don’t write for the paper.
Write for a seemingly smaller prize:
Once.upon.a time. there was a poet.
who.though.he didn’t.know it.
was. skilled. in the.art of “showing it.”
now.i.don’t. mean a pant’s package.
but.rather how to hit. words with a tennis racket
and not be held. in a bracket,
a straight jacket,
For when he writes
he writes with a bold passion,
to let others know
of what’s real
and how it feels
when all you see
is a swarm of coins.