April 12, 1992 2 a.m.


Poem by Ben Dunk.




The poet kings a life of passion

And renders reason from strife

Sees all extant possibilities

And gathers in all the ripe time


Not of this life alone his version

The poet wanders at will every graph

Forward and reverse in time and skies

And communicates in any mime


When the frugal dark days fashion

Cruel people with their tools rife

The poet reports truth from lies

And puts it succinctly into rhyme


The poet sits on a hill to lash-on

Pseudo signs of political life

Applauds the hero’s many tries

And honours stoics with scripts sublime


Woe to the very anti person

Who persecutes the poet with a knife

For powerful verse sets the dies

And destroys the essence of their prime