Pretty good, not great - 7

This is not concrete. This is concrete;

Hey! Shut up, and cut my grass. (Concrete) by horus8

Mowed for sanity.
A lawn for the first time
in nearly six years. Front and
back, and even the sides. The grass
tending ritual has not changed very much,
but I have. We both needed water when it was
all over. It, more so than I. Is There a noble
meaning behind the act of grooming. It promotes
blooming I'm assuming. I currently have a bloody
hole in my stomach. That statement is telesematic.
Being too analytical apparently does have a down
side. Constantly worrying mentally has begun to
surface physically. Guess that I should have
respected more,
the back seat,
and kept my,
trap shut,
sewed my,
lid shut
Learned
how to
not say
but-but
I can't
<typo>
$grass$
^^^^^^^^
He's swell,
Cracked bell,
It is all water,
from the same well.
What am I afraid of ?
Disease carrying insects.
Twilight zone on DVD in B&W.
unaware of my filthy receptacle.
Who, or what, I can and can't affect.
I am going to take off while I still can.
Being a complacent young man that can "coolit".
With an exquisitely decorated oriental flip fan for
Nero. I wonder how many years will pass by again before I
stumble on another lawn that I'm forced to mow, water, hoe.

Zero.
Fascicle.
Pure-blood.
Topknot.
Carbon 14.
Antiparticle.
Merry-go-round.
Water-table.
Incontrovertable.
Chevalier.
Pretzel.
Suffocate.
Abstractionalist.
<can't you>
<just let>
<some shit>
<not have>
<to always>
<be about>
<god devil>
<cunt cock>
<nice sock>
<just you>
<thank you>

For nothing, but that constantly
evaporated feeling of receding,
and diminishing into something
else that has to do with you. You,
and nothing else. Just you, yes, you.
You, and yours, such wealth smiled
stealth. I want to be you. Tell your
people about you. Mock you! Say
I know you, to tow you, around. I,
your blessed shadow boxer burn out.
Your elbows and knees exfoliated free.
Then you'll see how you are
the only one I see, I see, I see
through your skirt, and flesh
and marrow, I see...
No worth in...
Tommorrow...
Without you...
CUT!

<{And violently rootless my love}>
<{violent 'rootless' my lo-}>
<{-lent 'rootless' my}>
<{rootlessness'}>
<{rootofmy}>
<{ego}>
---

A Concrete poem is a conglomeration of words (sometimes one word repeated over and over) whose overall shape is a key to the concept it presents. There are no truly agreed-upon conventions, but a natural elegance of arrangement is often striven for.

Sometimes the poem can be read in multiple directions from different starting points, depending on the shape of the form and the curiousity of the reader.


This is a dumb poem. Sorry.