Poetry is like water,
I drink it excessively

And speak it like its
feather brushing air,

“So elegant”

Your ears seek
comfort of my words to rock you to deprivation

It’s so elegant sex deprives
passion

From my syllables
passion

I am who I am and
poetry is my mistress

We make words together
forever with the freshest lips,

And I’m still the
only one to have ever kissed her, and made her

Verse in hypnotic convulsion

Yet I still have yet
to reach the minds of her patrons

I guess she’s like liquor to the deaf

They just can’t
handle her words and contradictions.

This poem was written/submitted by Guy-Adler Dorelien.