Poets bold.
Poets carry a heavy load
When eulogizing.
Their fooligizing;
Writing words in liar mode
What is said,
‘Bout the dead,
Is pondered with foreboding
Saying Party Bore
Or Wall-Street Whore
Are truths too corroding
He was a guy
Nice as pie,
Poets grit their teeth and write.
But poets old
And poets bold
Rejoice he’s buried out of sight.
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