A Metaphor About Coffee

Drinking my Joe in my left hand
I read a man's poem, that I can understand.
So different it is from all the others
It is a happy poem, and deep as ether.
It is like I could have wrote it
But it isn't quite so,
Just a new generation of poets
That I have sown.
No more squalid themes of piss and shit
But of beauty, and love, and the sweet apple pit.
A little bitter, a little poison
Brought to the remedy of joy's enjoyment.
I drink, and I now understand
A new generation of poets to defeat the old ones
That I can't stand.