Is poetry just a form we fill with words
Or is it something deeper or absurd?
Hitler might have written villanelles
With words uttered by demons out of hell.
Demons are not real, it’s we who are
And hell is here on earth, I sadly say.
Heaven too is found where love can grow
When it is not for grasping or for show,
What can make a man engage such power;
He took Europe through its worst years ever.
Men and women ran like robots steel;
Were made machines without the will to feel.
The forms of poetry may be divine
But evil can parade through any lines.
