The Emancipated Poets of a Wild Continent

My vision of romanticism now lies
in their mercilessly longing eyes

It’s been just very recent
that I came across these two Romantics
one admiring death on the beach
and making love with a wild imagery
The other into more aggressively sexual
erotic poetry and equally anonymous too

I am a combination of these two
Perhaps a twin of each
in past generations of unknown births,
but a fact that I am equally
if not more romantic aesthetically being
perhaps certainly a bit elder to both

They are about to touch the bar at 70
I am nearly pole vaulting at eighty.
One thing which is astoundingly common is
that we three bask
in the sun concealed under covers
yet in the open vile imagination
to serve our own individualistic
intrinsic poetry intensely romantic
love, life and death

We three have taken to this ravishing art
one promotes an age old one
lost to the antiquities of desolate oasis
wow lovely world exotic beaches

the other speaks of wildness
with dolls called women in the wilderness
including now modern gays and lesbians
enjoying more lovelier orgasm in erotic freedom

I speak out of experience
of the emaciated human mind
each one is a philosopher of romanticism and love
of one’s own curiously individualistic kind

That’s why Pablo Neruda earned a Nobel for Romanticism
but who will to our kind of discourse today render cynicism
we are three poets of a class so different
uninhibited to render our views astutely indifferent