When what you burn to do is not allowed,
just write a poem and sublimate the urge
into a work of art: Do not just purge
a guilty wish to please the squeamish crowd.
Use craft to turn a grimace to a proud,
ascetic wince towards those fools who splurge
their dignity until they're on the verge
of being caught, reviled, and disavowed.
You're not like those men, poet! You're the tall
untainted soul who washes others clean!
The Bodhishatva! That's what Buddha calls
so brave a one as you are: What a scream!
And all because you could not get the ball
when you were in your awkward, lonely teens.
I'm still alive - thanks for asking!
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