Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Poems and Prose #95 - White Flag

Isn't it a tragedy?
Calamitous amnesty,
displayed unabashedly,
much more than it has to be.

Exasperated massively,
I gamble nothing, passively,
my spinal cord unfastening,
mastered moments vanishing.

Poems and Prose #94 - Glib

It might be somewhat disconcerting to learn,
at first, that ice is cold and fire burns,
and that a finite solution is often hard to discern,
what with loud and lonely, masked advisors
hopping uniformly up and down in an effort to be heard.

But if this has not been prior said, let me be the first:
A bladder full of urine is just as good as thirst,
a beaten, broken watch tells as well as one that works,
and a litany of facial modes show the same as slimy smirks.

Poems and Prose #93 - Sophistry

Fettered by festering fetishes,
a realist, remembering, relishes;
a solipsist savors his selfishness;
and I entertain any embellishments.

In dwelling on this,
   are we misfits?
Or merely sand grains
   dripping through a closed fist?
Or perhaps, in unison,
   we should all just admit
to enjoying the savory
   smell of bullshit.