Poets are liars!

Poets are liars,

their sweet words false!

The bastards of Bacchus,

laughing at loss.

 

Weaving their words,

their key to the gate.

Whispering blissfully,

their aim to sedate.

 

Of beauty and pain

and love and sorrow.

Of sadness, seduction

and hope or tomorrow.

 

Painting their images,

florid verse and themes.

Those they’ve persuaded,

the heart full of dreams.