The Poet Considers an Adulterous Generation

it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
Setting down old Steinbeck's script
It could be heard, for the poet quipped,
The sum of modern literature
Of poets, and every word-picture
Is the allure of the forbidden fruit
Of each letting this lust take root
There are some to whom this matters not
But theirs is not the highest spot
Amid the ranks of writers great
And so O World, you earn my hate
As you and e'en the post modern
When not gripped in political concern
Have to body reduced all that's good and free
And made romance just adultery.

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