H SPIT,CLEAN,POLISH,SPIT,CLEAN,POLISH

spit, clean, polish,spit,clean,polish!

i have seen poets
and i have seen worms
i have heard words apologising over
clumsy steps taken down the stairs
i have seen them walk barefooted on a beach
leaving behind no foot prints
i have seen them staring angrily at passing eyes that never
visted
or spared a glance
i saw them grow old and died lonely like a spinster turned nun
i have seen them tossed out of blank pages
head covered in shame
staring at the shreded pieces of gibberish yelling out in rage

they all imitaite the dress code of the choosen
same hat, same syllable,same shoes,same ryhmes
straight down the last line
but never the same style!
sh! listen, never were true poets
for they disintegrate like worms when thier lips shape my salty
ryhmes
every syllable armed with pejorate remarks angainst your premature
style
each step taken wit the military precision of soldiers on drill
spit,clean,polish,spit,clean,polish!
leaving every verse glittering like fire flies in twilight
poets or worms
you better be warned!
this style will rip,claw,slap,punch
and colide with whoever!.