Poor poet without a roof over his head
and anyone's smile.
Dispised by the satiated bourgeoisie
and rejected by your fellows raggedbeggars
who laught at your doggerel ...
Misery clothed in cold shame and evil charm ,
feeding on a few festing leftovers,
vomited by the compassion of crows ...
Poor poet knocked out by bad booze,
your torn hat letting only the divine curse
pass through ...
Even master devil himself does not make
a deal with you !
The price you have to pay to warm yourself
in the underworlds is too high for your dreams !
Your soul ,incrusted with too many memories...
Poor poet,who comes knocking at my door .
Let me fall asleep by the fireside ,
I dont'c care about the cold inside ,
cat contemplating the life behind the curtains...
Go away ! You dirty ugly thing !
On your way, you meet lady death
who invites you for a coffin at the local bar .
She slips an eternity steel ring onto your finger.
Death is a good girl .
Then you go to the public place
where the crowd cheers
the farting and trumpeting president !
Poor poet immolating
the hated reflection of his inner land...
On that day, it's snowing on the public square
where the gallows stand .
And the crowd does not get their shoes
stained by the poor poet's blood ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 8th, 2026 11:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson), Ellen Marsell

Offline)
Comments2
excellent work my friend
Poor poet who tells useless things !
In order to qualify as a poet one must pay one's dues of suffering, immolation, pain, blood and sweat and then only to receive the union wage of criticism, disparagement, ridicule and shame. Consigned to be a trainee for life and any accolades to be turned over to other poets that stole your lines. Poor poet indeed. Good write Lorenz
Poetry is not vain when it bears witness and is not merely a mirror of childish emotions !
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