By
PW Covington
Just One Question
What did the brown, glass, bottles hold
These brass shell casings
These burned out homes
What kind of trees, where these ashes blow
These cavities, and missile silos
What kind of hole did these gods fill,
That used to reside in these once holy hills
What about these rusty syringes
Why were these tickets and schedules printed
Why were these iron tracks laid down
Why were these holes drilled into the ground
Why were these newspapers ever printed
What good id these flags ever do
Why were these factories ever built,
And, why were so many, many, killed
How many meals were served on these plates
To those that were destined to quickly decay
rusted cars and aeroplanes,
Where were they taking us, in the end
There must have been a struggle,
From the looks of things
What did these brown, glass, bottles hold?
PW Covington represents everything that is wrong in the poetry society. He feeds directly into the age-old stereotypes that people think of when they think of poets. 1) He has not worked a job in over a decade. 2) He lives off the government (claims that he is 100% mentally disabled through a fraudulent "PTSD" claim) 3) He has multiple felony convictions which he blames on everyone but himself. 4) Lived with his parents until he was in his mid-30s, . . . . then got on welfare instead of getting a job. 5) Has been kicked out of most military veteran organizations he has tried to join due to over-embellishing his military record and providing fraudulent military documents. 6) His claims of poetry "fame" are exaggerated. . . . immensely through his self-promotion schemes. He does not represent the society of poetry that I have grown fond of and I am disappointed that you have chosen to publish his junk.