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We all sell ourselves
Most try to love
Buy what's on the shelves
That God replenishes from above

If that love finds its way
To your pen and your paper
You write it down today
Your thoughts you don't taper

The feelings you feel
For men who are kind
It's not your will
What comes to your mind

It's the season of the poet
It's the summer of the nurse
It's the dance as you know it
Even if by some you're cursed

Let them cuss you
Call you a concubine
While you know it's true
What comes to your mind

Sell your poetry
To those who will read
Let it fly free
The food that you need

Eat heartily it's meat
Eat slowly it's dessert
To some you're not sweet
Because your words flirt

With a soul who writes too
On a computer far away
Who said he loves you
So you believe that today

And you believe that tomorrow
You harlot of the Internet
So called to bring sorrow
That this poet will get

It's only a comment
From one by Inglewood
To them you're vomit
And your poems no good

While good you have inside
Lost girl looking for love lost
You let their words slide
Write the blues you pay the cost

Because one did not understand
The pain you have withstood
As you know there's only one man
Who's love is perfectly good

That is my God
He loves this poet of time
And if I am odd
In words and in rhyme

It's okay
You write on
It's a way to pray
All your life song.

1/28/2009 1648 cj

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