Member Poem

Whenever I am disillusioned
and my heart aches at the wickedness of man,
To lessen the pain of my heart
I sit down to write poetry.

If it wasn't for poetry…

Living this life would be unbearable,
The false preaching of the pompous priests
The false promises of the pandering politicians
The false certitude of the cheating charlatans;

Poetry allows this poet to give vent to his rage
and despair in words, instead of action.

Looking at the wretched condition
of the downtrodden and
the hedonistic lifestyle of the affluent,
the pent-up anger in me is ever raring
to burst forth and burn this world down…
If it wasn’t for poetry!