A POOP FOR THE POOR

I sleep,
I Drink,
& I Write poetry,

What a Fabulous poetry
For a moment of clarity ,

A magical source
Plays each tune through the deep pores
as it is Threatened by my loyalty,

the short comings
Jump on my sorrow tunes,

To Suffer is exiting
& To be Happy is boring,

my cup gives a translucent gesture
in it's roaring,

Words of meaning being sold and bought by
the self rising authorities, who gain their margin
Between the gaps of mind and heart,

What I see is What I believe
And the bird shits rains from the sky,

A Poop 
For The 
Poor..