Writers Poem by Dante' Camerlengo

I want to talk about literary things
and writers,
writers that make you think,
writers whose words are barbed fish hooks
that catch your soul, that pull you through
the rancid acid of your own hells,
Writers that harbor the sun behind the dark clouds
they paint, they allow the horizon
to glow with warmth. Yes,
truth is ugly, real and raw, and
I don’t care about it. I want lies,
lies that tell truths.
Anybody can keep a journal;
not everybody can get paid for it
like Bukowski.
(Oh yeah, I went there)

I want to talk about literary things
and writers,
writers that make you think,
writers whose words are barbed.