The Realist

Nautical graves and practical poets, Woman's condition and cultural woe. Heaving sensations accompany the telly. What's worse than these? The end of the show. Our lives, like globes, stiffly revolving; White serpents crawl throughout and choke. Resignation I give to High Society's office. My passion - your kindling - stoke. Woe for the compassionate daughter, Ode to thee, misanthropic son. Whether come hell or highwater, Both will burn in ineffable sun.