I’m Not A Fancy Poet

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I’m not a fancy poet
I don’t have a soul patch nor a beret
Within the confines of each breath
Trying to create a literary bouquet
I merely write how I feel
Without thought to how I’m perceived
No time for such arbitrary notions
True to myself, I know I’ve achieved

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We Exist In A Fortuitous Moment

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We exist in a fortuitous moment
Together in a summery field
Sipping delightful wines
Writing verse on our intercollegiate yields
They want us to come in from the cold
But I’m not concerned about their rules
I’d rather remain isolated with you
Bosh to their arbitrary ordinances to reign in fools