Dont Poem by Julian Takali

Dont write pretty girls poetry
Dont risk a word
Dont, young son
If you dont want hurt

Not even their sisters
The ugly, the smart, the rich
Every stroke of your hand
Is what God is to Neitczhe

I warn you now, while your youth enslaves you
I've worn your shoes plenty
Sent mail abroad
Only to get in return a paper in scars

Young boy of mine, move with caution
Tread slow, walk these waters easy
Take your time, wade slow
Never get too greedy

Dont write pretty girls poetry
Dont risk a word
Dont, young son
If you dont want hurt

Heed what I say, clean your ears
They read what they want to see
And listen for what they want to hear!

For nobody can love a poets incessant groans -
Theres always been a reason they wither alone!