Ruined Moon
Melancholy morose moon,
Of which poets can whine;
Ruminate required ruin,
A wilted flower find!
Poetry poses poof
For creeps and geeks to talk.
Languishing loudly lewd.
Oh woe, let’s take a walk!
Ruined Moon
Melancholy morose moon,
Of which poets can whine;
Ruminate required ruin,
A wilted flower find!
Poetry poses poof
For creeps and geeks to talk.
Languishing loudly lewd.
Oh woe, let’s take a walk!
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
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