These Poets, These Poets

One thing that I cannot bare

Is shock-sweet drivellings of a hare

Lettuce of malice

Carrots of grief

Still unreconsiled

Their soul they keep

Displayed on view for all to see

They rant

They moan

To know they're free

Their food is Rancid

Their stench is sweet

And when the hunter

Finally appears

What words divulge

To these sweet ears?

Lettuce of insight

Carrots of light

Still untamed

His souls he keeps