Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.
Mister, stop and listen to this hobo's chant so loud,
I promise that my words are not shiny, no, but proud.
I can, if you permit it, tell you my "secrets" of life,
Those that will break your spirit, and drive your knife.
Lo, here is the silken curtain lifted . . .
They are but a few, but oh, how mighty . . .
These muted beings are so beautifully-crafted . . .
Wings, perfect wings, serving not a sound in the sun
Paying no attention to the darkness below.
Two elder parents crying out loud all ninety-nine and one,
I shudder with fear, not like before, killing with snow.
These are but the young ones crying in dimensions blurred,
Here are the Majestic Watchers never missing a breath.
Giving me the key to all university’s black and heard,
I vow to bow to you, THE one calling silent words to take death.
The angels own the eternity . . .
Breezes softly walking near the older stars . . .
Boldly whispering a certain fraternity . . .
We own eternity. . .watching all wars.
© 2020 Kenneth Avery