Come All You Young Poets

Come all you young poets and gather round me
And tell me of all you have learned
Tell me the things that you never could say
Tell me the poems you burned

Tell me your stories of licensed young men
Oppressed by tyrannical things
Who make their decisions in face of the wrong
Who fly on their absolute wings

Tell me of hatred, of lust and of pain
Turn off for me each inward spurt
I know about happiness, you say the real
The truth and the good only hurt

We'll meet and discuss all the problems of flesh
And how hard it all seems to be
We'll talk through the night, but please, if you don't mind
Don't show your poems to me

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