The Orator Curses His Contemporaries

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
The poet's responsibility
Is not political nor can it be
He can deconstruct no thing at all
He cannot his hearer appall
For the fun of it - never
He must become one ever
Vigilant to The Beautiful Things
Until his own soul sings, sings, sings
Of what is, no mere floating text
No leering heart far over-sexed
No ax to bring down any wall
No cry for justice, unless God call
Through his words to stir the heart
This doing is never his own part
He is powerless, he cannot stand
He has no rights he may demand
And when this folly he does perfect
What happens, none may expect
Even the mighty are all brought down
Before the report of Beauty's sound.

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