Free verse № 233
the absent-minded walk on the proverbial mountainside of nothingness + my mother's old tampons
intangible lies breed disposable flies
the benchmark of salvaging truth
with the gloss of a dream and the breath of a scream
i see that my shadow's uncouth
to cling is to share and to live unaware
of life in the fullest extreme
so i see in the dark of this abysmal spark
the flame of my torturous theme
with breath that is bated and so underrated
the master has shackled his loins
to the frame of a door in the house of a whore
who lives at the edge of des moines
arise from the fog you flea-ridden dog
and clean up the mess you have made
with a nice spongy mop and gingerbread chopped
with the ax that our lies have unmade
disposed of these flies with our crude alibis
the truth has erased where we sat
Our screams were forgotten in dreams that are rotten
All wrought in the shadow's pet cat
7 comments
i'm sure you didn't mean this as intelligence at all.
there is a classification of poetry that is so entirely abstract in its imagery that it is clever. However, that form of poeticism is carefully written. Yours is obviously a piece of mockery. But I like it.
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