My Kind Of Poetry

If honour goes away,
That will be a glorified fall.
We won’t survive another day.

In things big, null and small,
Nothing survives.
We just get to die all.

We owe nothing to our lives.
Achievements endeavour to patrol
Long enough so anger arrives.

But in words whose hands uplift the soul,
You’ll find me
If going apart means sticking to a whole.

Leonell