Artless Art Poem by Egal Bohen

To The Establishment


All Poets write with words that flow
Straight from ones heart
In verse
Or not
As
Arrows
True delivered
And
In style
Not erring on the side of fashion spent
Nor caring for the praise of others
Who
With feelings lost
Perhaps
Might
Decide
Themselves
To sit in judgement on
A Poets art

For Poets write
In innocence of those
Whose minds
Are locked
Within that wilderness
Of all that should be not

For Poets write
Indeed
Oblivious of those
Whose pleasures grow
From comments
Sown in frost
Their superiority
Assumed
Adhering to the crowd
And by so
Lost

Those Poets then deserve
Their honours due
But never sent
For their words
May open windows
Too long blocked
That light
May shine at last
On darkest
Dark
Establishment
Long kept
In guarded mystery
Defended
Set apart
Existing artificially
By critics
Huddled in a circle
(Members of an artless art)
All fearful
That one day
Somewhere
A Poet
Might just fart