The funny of the Poets

I have met them,
They who comouflage in all shades and colors
I met them
They that spoke of the word superfluously

Oh the poets,
Masters of cooking like the pots
They weave all dots and spots
Muttering, sputtering, they fire accusation shots

A poets world,
Virgin with imagination like unadulterated maidens
Running wild with hormonal thrusts
Expressive of all, both warm and cold

I have met them, in their dramatization
I have watched their suspense
I have seen the sentimentalization
I witnessed their emotional simulations

Not only do they personalize,
They speak with onomatopoeic finesse
They not only satirize,
Armed with apt imagery, they eschatologically serialize

The Irony is abundant,
Funny when the poet believes the act
The show becomes repugnant
Funny like the cloth man's penchant

The clothe people are good at personification
In Anthropomorphic feats of simplification,
They create emotional states from imagery worthy indignation
Then they seek in others, absolute state amplification.
The funny of the poets


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