You’ll have to be an acquired mind
To accept the bitter taste of my poetry’s wine
Pop the cork off of aged thoughts
This isn’t the wine you would have bought
This isn’t something you rush
You sit, talk, sip, and discuss
Then let it marinate in your gut
Don’t be shy poor another cup
And repeat the same process
Then you will see my wine impress
Impresses the most pickiest of tongues
From well tongues
To top shelf tongues
And in-between tongues
Delicatessen thoughts
For a delicatessen mind
Would have to be divine
To enjoy the bitter sweet wine
Acquired taste
For an acquired mind