Saturday, October 8, 2011


How can a man who’s just a poet
Be honored with a Nobel Prize?
If I were he, I’d tell them, “Stow it
Till you can look me in the eyes
And tell me that what you’ve been reading
Has changed the world and stopped its bleeding.
Till then all words are merely mud
That covers life, nipped in the bud.
To see the nature of reality
Your words must free the people to
Eliminate the class snafu
That’s left them drudging in banality.
Accepting prizes for a game
Is one thing but . . . the other’s lame.”

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