deepundergroundpoetry.com
In A Paddleboat Pounding the Malevolent Sea
All mighty won
der
ful it be, this Life,
which has to die when
touched.
Right we live
the Terminal Realm, square
under
Eternity's nose, and we
don't know from squibbleshit
what to do wit this, that, the other
pernicious Lord/Master looking out from the
perch in the skull,
where the spingtyme
blozzums bloom.
So dire is the dirt that dusts off this brain, when
taut and tight a great fortune
you saw when they danced
around death that was dancing
with Them.
o, chickenscratch momma, come tend yOur chicks.
it's only minutes til the time telling you to ready the show.
(Daughters die of their of their own devices making dada'men
wail and sob , and cry for grief's greater good,
allowing no other man to look upon to look upon
to look upon his frantic weepings).
Weep, weep, cry aloud and all mightily, don'let'em prick them tricks as
would a surgeon opening me bloody broke heart, amidst
blizzarding snow and icicling rain that of a sudden
come up from the deep'weepin' south,
so sweet as their tea,
so proud as their emptiness.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
2019dankozakpoom+a'pic@2019@@@@
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 1
comments 5
reads 465
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.