I used to be a writer; a little poetry by hand. A poet without the glitter; no audiance did i command. My messages were solely mine; a cummulation of my thoughts. Here and there little lines, and whatever comfort it brought. I was not the shakespear; i am who i am. These my writings, i shared, hoping if "one" would understand. Then my time was past; i wrote poems no more. Not even good poets last, muchless me, this simple bore. Yet you can make me great, reading my work through and through. Do so for this poet's sake; one who is infamous as you. Become a well known critic-: debate my work and its value. With comments from good to derelict; such helps my work shine-through. I am not the immortal; my body dead and gone. Make my work-:a living portal and byfaith a legend lives:- on!