I write romantically, in rhyme.
Not all the time.
Sometimes my pent-up passion cools
for female fools.
Then I begin to long for more,
when women bore.
I seek the sacred, sweet sublime.
That’s not a crime!
Not slighting goddess or the muse.
(They can amuse.)
But deep inside my love-sick soul
they leave a hole.
This mad misogynistic mood
can seem quite rude,
but poet’s life is oh, so short,
the Buddha taught.
Like line, on water, someone drew,
we\'re passing through.
So very soon we’ll disappear.
We\'re such small beer!
It’s time, I think, we did outgrow
these girls who glow.
Since we are simply streaming stars,
light beams through bars.
We’ll sleep like shells washed up on shore,
forevermore!
So, search and seek the sweet sublime.
Don’t waste your time!