Real poem

I want real poets

Not bullies and dreams

I want to hear the poetry of lost souls

Who talk about homelessness and the warmth of a gun in their mouths of the sensation of a needle in their vein

I want to hear real poets

Not pseudo intellectuals who do what their told

I want to hear a real poem

Where a man gets drunk and fucks the woman he loves and then wakes to her gone

I want to hear about the dark corners people visit

I want to feel real poetry

Where people are broke and sleeping on concrete mattresses

Where shuffled homeless try to find warmth food in these cold winters coming with the east wind so quick it could kill

I want to hear real poetry from the hitchhikers and drifters

Who thumb down the road and move with the wind of cars whizzing by

I want a real poet

Not one of rhymes with sycophantic supplications of god and country

I want to see a real poet who fights for bread and dollars along with the revolutionaries in the streets who do not sleep

I want real poetry from men and women who fight for the one love with words and gumption of all that they do

I want to hear real poetry of fragmented souls trying to coalesce once again