My Kind Of Poetry

My kind of poetry heals;
it has class and it’s sick.
When you listen you know how it feels.

My few words bleed the color of brick.
They always know who to face;
the priest, kid, sun or lunatic.

My kind of poetry always wins a race.
It turns a girl on and swings a mood.
When it hits a rock, it wears a brace.

My kind of poetry makes Friday good,
it picks on a Saturday and makes it holy,
then cooks a risen Christ on Sunday as food

Ruddapoet Rudolph