poets society

I had a dream where i joined a cult dubbed 

The ecstatic poets society.

Or was it emphatic? 

What ever happened to Van Gogh? 

David Foster Wallace? 

My ear? My eyes? 

Why are the poets gone? 

Where have all the poets gone? 

Why have all the poets gone? 

The poets--they chose to die. 

Poor poets! Poor poets! 

How could you do this to them?

He sought the dionysian but I'm stuck in a world of weaponry 

Apollo! Leave him BE! 

where is the procession? Where is it! 

I was promised a procession. But where have all our poets gone? 

Poetry is dead. 

And so am I.

But wait! A whisper!

you already died, my friend, so live! live!

But how can I live? 

I want to live as myself but myself others claim madness and myself i want others to with be.

What? Suppress the dancing the whopping? 

The questioning the unbeing? 

What! Become like them speak their words? 

Weave yourself into their wounds? 

Wound myself! 

A musket leg ! You must be MAD! 

i guess i am too. 

Whee-la-loo, I'll do it for you.