Po-Blog Warriors

New Yorker,
come out to play-a.

New Yorker,
come out to play-a.

Down comes your tower
of ugly pixels and bits. It’s
over, your hour is up.

The Sick Poets are here,
coughing in your Face.
Isolation won’t stop Us.

We’re coming for your
daughters and sons, your
hidden bank accounts, and your
aged runway catwalk wives, your
“producer” husbands.

Snobbery is gated neighborhoods,
devaluing the true lives of words.

Can you dig it?




17 thoughts on “Po-Blog Warriors

  1. Cool tangent off a cool film…I can hear the clink-clink of bottles throughout your words and veiled taunts..bring that divide down. Hope you make it back to Coney :).

    1. Yes, thank you. It’s good we’re on the same frame, Warriors is a fine film. The clink-clink clink-clink scene is my favourite part. I was hoping someone would notice the connection to the movie.

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