THE DEATH OF POETRY

Come quickly
The poetry is dying
Its been held up by scripture and song
All the doctors are holding up mirrors
But none seem to know where it’s gone

It left late at night
In a taxi
But the taxi crashed into a wall
The wall's name was Judas iscariot
But Judas was not meant to fall

Then the doctors they cried out for Judas
But Judas groaned
Poetry’s been framed
I framed it for murder
From memory
I needed its love to be tamed

So Judas was placed in a prison
He escaped just by being to thin
You can’t murder the poetry by memory
You just have to get under its skin

You have to burn holes in your memory
For poems to breath and escape
And if Judas iscariot comes calling
Then tell him he’ll just have to wait