The Workers Of Art Without Content - Poem by RIC BASTASA

a work of art
without content

the one which
you think has no use

it cannot change
the world

the old path
remains muddy

the house is as
dusty ever

the kitchen
still shows the same

smoke same charred

how come however
that we have survived?

today we shall bury
another overused soul

another substantive
hardworking animal

he thinks we have
done him no good at all

Topic(s) of this poem: life

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 12, 2016

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