as if flowing through the veins
of some Facebook poetry clique
bloody splotches……. remnants
left behind as this reminder
that the so-called purists
are about ~ enacting a sort of
homeostasis like refinement
in accordance to the almighty laws
supports…… holding up
the foundation
of the Holy of Holies
that inner sanctum ~ where
the parchments of poetical tradition
lay in their sanctified form
never to be altered by the radical
disciple……. under the cloak
of creativity
found within word artistry
which bellows from the heavens
to the defiled earth below ~ EUREKA
similar to the Archimedes yell of old
I FOUND A WAY…….. while under
the oppression of the gods
to make my fuckin’ poetry unique
to standout as different
defiantly leaving its mark ‘~’
of individuality
on the blood stained battlements
erected by the purists
thusly ~ instead of thus
forever changing
the landscape of the poet
to explore beyond
the walls of containment
into the land of trial and error
where discovering the unknown
saying I FOUND IT…….
~ my way ~
how I express words…..
~ is well worth
the purist chastisement
and the abandonment
of the Facebook poetry clique
peace out
Words by ~Keith Alan Hamilton~