To Recite Fatiah On The Beggar Poets Unmarked Grave They Come, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
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his dead flesh
infested with
maggots was
willing the
poets fucked
soul went
numb a
pestilent
street shooting
bum deaf deafer
dumb she whom he
loved is getting humped
by another beach bum
libidinous empty drum
who lives off
her crumbs
she who was
his only
muse abdicated
his poetic throne
his dreamless
kingdom
memories
of his washed
away hope
an empty
bottle of
old monk rum
his solitary
soulless
spirit
still
under
her
thumb
