What Happened: A Poem

What happened to the lyric, eh?
And the starving, blazing pen

Rippled paper, the maleficent word

Spartan, pristine, harvest, and sound

Something's got to give

Or brazenly we'll go

With our heads obeying injunctions

And our arms in sacred knots

Writing's saving the world

Well, cosmic time and space

And if it stirs a thousand ways

It still prizes one

We are not frightened

Or selfish and mad

But politic and just

And equipped to hassle

To worry ourselves in a trap

Gnawing until our wounds are bled

Red, raw, frenetic, and dull

Glistening whiteness and teeth sharped like bone

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