Poets Writing Ads (Thinking of T. S. Elliot)

No sign of motion
neither slow, nor normal, or fast;
No questions asked.

-Officer, officer,
enter my home
plant me a hope
chain my globe


In the frozen arteries
of bloodless metaphors
fearful life, now,
lethargically flows;
fear of life, fear of soul.
He tried to blend
but the back door was closed
and the front one wrote:
- Prophets And Sons of Wastelands,
Poets Acceding to Writing Ads -

-Officer, officer,
stop my bicycle
seize my principle
leave my icicle.