These new poets Spin words like strands of silver On golden tongues Glue riveting sentences or chisel them Into our minds Raise radiance to heaven Then drop their victim And he crashes as an eternal shell into pieces Preserved and pinned Like the iridescent Blue Morpho butterfly They take flora and fauna Illuminate Nature’s elegance and bestiality As the bud appears after the winter frost Blooming into a blaze of color in summer These new poets uplift Authorize the art of erotic With word pictures possess us They manifest a revolution of norms They describe the human desire to conquer Evidenced in severed body parts, a random arm Head staring blankly And mass graves Yet I love the poets’ rhythm Sensitivity, perception Their wake up call Prophetic warnings Vibrant world pictures With exploding phrases Stern philosophic soothsayers They wield the glittering paintbrush That creates your mirror Shows you your own imperfections, beauty, savagery Their language with twists and reflects You may blast your euphemisms Hold on tightly to your logic and your senses While we, the egotistical poets Are the conscience and irritants within The bastards of language,full of paranoia With revealing touch of truth Dig deep into the hearts and minds An irritant, a panacea