Dead Poets Dance
We sing
Act
Die
Cry
Dance in the sky
We form societies
To read aloud
What others dare not say
From Shakespeare to Byron
Poe to Moe
We sit around smoke filled lounges
Spewing words forth
Love, hate, Hemingway’s mojitos staring in mirrors
Whiskey permeates the air
Smokey flavors absorbed into flowing ink
Towards the graves
We always gaze onward towards the graves
From the inside out, and looking up on coffin roofs
The seas of depression like waves to surf
Some might say we any maniacal and crazy
Today we welcome a new member
Mork from Ork
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