Publishers

Emotionally overpowering?
What fucking fucker says that to a poet?
What can that mean to a soul that pours its contents our for a man to
pick over,
You have no real soul, no basis of criticism,
All you seem to do is gloss over the love and pain and then reject all
that we have done!

I wont write for anyone's tastes, never shall I submit!
I will never write such poisoned letters that have no meaning to my
soul but should get published.
What poetry could that be, which has no soulful intent?
Why must we write for others suits?

I wont write like that, like the other commercially rich harlots,
For I have a soul and I have a mind, it shall not bow down to any such
authority that deems itself better,
I shall never see thee again and you have lost out on what I have bled
for,
I wont bleed for you, I have such that cannot corrupt,
I wont submit!
I wont submit!
What right do you have to say no?
What right do you have to say that it has no substance?
I shall be found in print, one-way or the other,
I shall be found screaming my pain to others on page, on word, on
voice!
Heed my warnings for you will never see thee again. I shall be
gone.
Bleeding alone on the floor as the ecstasy enters me and drowns out the
pain.