Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Nothing In the Pot Is Fit to Eat
Madness driven and pushed to the edge.
Everything they believe in lays crushed and dead.
A compromise can not be reached!
They seek a singeing that burns within.
And rage they do!
It is preferred instead.
They've been scorched and scrambled...
With a temper peppered and teased.
They thought they'd be buttered up and warmed,
Charm toasted, held close and slightly squeezed.
But a shoulder getting colder,
Is what they found in the pot.
And the pot was not about to get heated.
Madness driven and pushed to the edge.
Everything they believe in lays crushed and dead.
A compromise can not be reached!
They seek a singeing that burns within.
And rage they do!
It is preferred instead.
They've been scorched and scrambled...
With a temper peppered and teased.
They thought they'd be buttered up and warmed,
Charm toasted, held close and slightly squeezed.
But a shoulder getting colder,
Is what they found in the pot.
And the pot was not about to get heated.
No...
The pot was not about to get heated.
And...
Nothing in the pot is fit to eat!
Since...
Emptiness is in it and not meat!
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black