*a screen provocation, you laugh out loud, mime hating yourself that you are joiining in tacitly acknowledges the truth of abbreviated wisdom
you, disguised minority of modest disagreers, c'mon, admission submission, more truth in it than deserving of argumentation
a one liner throwaway, neatly designed, leaves you disturbingly probed, thoughtfully tormented and aroused
poetry just a vehicle, your vice for revelation, the critical door to open is this:
do people hate the truth?
inescapable reality ironical probability, truth well disguised, in plastic shell of lying from the Hollywood's would be poets, an escapade from the escapists
let us not pretend that you and I uncaring, for by virtue of your reading this, you are poetry aficionado, required to deny the lie, and yet, accept the granular view that we are rising writing thru the wronged end of a telescoping microscope
so I scare scar a tissue sample from my tongue and the cells spell this rejoinder:
all your lies are poems, incomplete truths, and that's why people hate poetry