he was young and full of fire (blind-stupidity). he spoke to the masses. cruel pen and paper sheathed at his side.
the weak ones flocked. the strong ones black-listed him, pulled out his innards, examined them, turned them upside down, and said, "naa, it's all mush, hog-wash, better off dead, maimed, or better yet disheartened." he quit, left, gave in, retreated to the exiles of mediocrity. he lived in that dream world for years. women, women, women turned him upside down too. it was all but over for him. he lay on his death bed full of doubt but determined to show them again. he rose from the ashes, picked up his cruelest pen, the one he never used before, the one he feared the most. he questioned his actions, he wondered if he could do it again, so much was lost before, what would it cost him this time? he wrote down his first line. now you have to put up with him.
My book "Black-Listed Poems" is now available. if you
want a copy just message me. it's free.
