Tin men poets
Write without heart
Create rhyming irrelevance
Pretending it's art
Average Joe
With ode to the mundane
Blinkered to all insight
Never knowing pain
Great listeners
Have little to say
Clumsy with their words
They just bore you away
Ego eccentrics
Pleading, look at me
Delusions of talent
Nothing there to see
Hypocritical poetasters
Preaching to save your soul
Vanity’s a sin
Yet self promotions still their goal
Robotic writers
Empty inside
Invisible to the real world
Within their words they hide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amen to this one. (though I admit; I'm scared to death you must have mentioned me in there somewhere, lol) .