Silent ovation

Poetry was a passion , a pejoration ,
A plastic exploration into,
Mind’s empty elations .
Poets are saved from purgatory ,
Because Gods are effectless ,
On Poetic Paganists
Pianists of vast universe

And then Came economico voices,
telling us of their vices,
stories of drowning nations,
into the baskets of recessions,
endless oceans,endless oceans,
of words ,of grotesques protests,
that manifest and insist,
on their own constitutions ,
such a barking glory,

But I like the trees,
obeying to the darkness,
and to the Moon,
to the cats ,
In their silent ovation ,
to the Farce of Mankind.