Not that long ago,
I saw poetry in people -
how they perpetrated passion
and pretentiously preached
the prominence of romance;
I poured paragraphs upon paper
to behold the birth of ballets,
merging letters and imagery
into color and hope
for machines to understand my nature.
But some specimen
are simply too stupid
to see the blurred bedsheets.
And the sun shat me a new season:
with ghosts -
incapable to remember respect,
individuals -
whoring themselves on the web
and a big stamp on my face stating
"this is not an invention
but a throwaway human."

how rude

the system probably ate it 






Judging from all of the trophies it's earned, I must not be the only one who thinks so 

















I've never come across that word in poetry before but you've used it well 

43 old applause
