Write on, irrespective!

the lure is naked
like visceral conquests
ribboned on your breast
forever documenting

excitedly revealing stale, smelly recycled internet garbage.

poetry, eitherways, the know of’s
are far from the show off’s!
To be philistine these days
is a blessing in honesty,
ignorant of numbing repetition
and regurgitated clamour!

Write your verse in silence,
or measure it in deep breaths,
and maybe sudden sneezes,
all in all,
disappointment will sustain,
sometimes it’ll seem a decent bargain…

In short, a postscript leaked
tells me
that medallions of glamour
are short and sweet
ejaculated in tweets,
so you write on,
stony stalwart,
and let your lure be
imagined in thought, in misery, in bliss, and in eternal love!