deepundergroundpoetry.com
Quarter Note = 60
Click.
Dancing orphans walk
tight-ropes, not in
synch, but merely…
Click.
Two blind apes in
wheel-chair, electric
shaver, four and…
Click.
Wise medicine man
dragging two-handed,
I’m running…
Click.
Don’t you touch
trust belongs
to that drunken…
Click.
Click.
Click.
I’m grown and
your filth, feces burn
in my salute to the sun.
Click.
Dancing orphans walk
tight-ropes, not in
synch, but merely…
Click.
Two blind apes in
wheel-chair, electric
shaver, four and…
Click.
Wise medicine man
dragging two-handed,
I’m running…
Click.
Don’t you touch
trust belongs
to that drunken…
Click.
Click.
Click.
I’m grown and
your filth, feces burn
in my salute to the sun.
Click.
Published 19th Jan 2010
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 3
reads 779
Commenting Preference:
The author has chosen not to accept new comments at this time.
Anonymous
19th Jan 2010 5:53am
Strange and haunting poem. The language sizzles with quiet but terrible intensity, and as always the bizarre and beautiful use of metaphor startles. The final lines, in-between the last two click's, were astonishing. What a peculiar, immense talent you are...
19th Jan 2010 6:08am
I drive myself mad when I try to rationally make sense of life, yet I find the strange and bizarre a clear outlet. I am humbled by your comments. Sharing my work with an open-minded audience always gives me great pleasure.
19th Jan 2010 8:33am
