deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dear Ear
Dear Ear, prey tell me what you have heard? Rumours abound on the winds
From blood pumping moody moans of ruinous weather, to the tale and tingle of tongues unfettered, unbound and gloriously strummed!
Dear Ear, please tell me why tears broil in my eyes, ready for the demons of a punishing broth to delight in the commence of their tumbling descents
Down
Dear Ear, please let me forget the pain
Dear Ear, perhaps you can explain as to where all my brilliance has gone?
Why the brilliance has left me?
Has it floundered upon the rocky shore of happenstance?
Or in the inevitable greed and grind of inane expectations?
Has it wherried itself in a ribald cleft or been heaved from the earthy thought of commencing and complaining fauna, compiling itself with a shuddering and shimmering inertia of light?
Will I lift my head high when you return?
And more importantly will I delve to the depths that I once belonged?
Where I saw myself as belonged
Sat at the feast hall all alone, waiting for the guests upon my solitary throne
I’m such a gracious king, full of hollowed out hate
Bite the fruit, sniff the snoot
Tumult of orders!
Can this be rectified through song and dance?
Patterns of mysterious intent strike at my thought like a searing knife?
Huh?
Who?
I miss the dark understandings
I miss them so much
I am so desperate with pain
Breathing deepens
Are you still listening Dear Ear?
A rustle in that fauna
That deadly fauna
I will acknowledge and raise my goblet to it
Where will I lie my head at the foot of the bed?
When I have clambered so far from shame
So far from shame!
Recomposed effort and fortitude, yet it hardly thumps at the drum at all
Dear Ear, you will have to forgive me I get… carried away with my words
My mouth is so bitter and dry without the parch of acrimonious liquor and I hardly remember myself at all…
Dear Ear, I don’t wish to die, that urge has dwindled from before, but delirium is wanting of that dumbing-down happenstance, when can I wear the crown of reward?
Dear Ear, I fall to my mundane consciousness, losing all will of the spark of sub-consciousness
Destroyed and diminished I had hardly finished to prattle about these very pages
Spewing forth, wanton drivel of ink and paradoxical mussing of the very happenstance that has become my rattling shackles of demented and incalculable self worth, set to bury itself in the spittle and sprattle and suffocating sands of such nebulous and broiling time!
Hidden to the mundane mind
Haunted through exposure
Yet inside the mind of the mundane burns a flame…
Dear Ear, forget me not, and neither will I the pain you have caused me, from now to the end we will refuse to bend to all others, yet advocate those who are masters
True masters
Dear Ear, I beg you, please heal me
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