In abstract I was not right, angled, obtuse
Yes, but no 3-D novelty puzzle to pass time
Rather, a real boy once like Peter Pan
Or that kid who owned Lassie.
And I had love with inhalation
I had faith with new deception
Tire swing with aging rope
Fish tank hobbies, and no
interest in flesh, or dope.
Now, I am bender, acutely inobvious
Razor down on eye, split at the tuft
Deleterious -- Dark like Merlot and
Chamber music on a Monday night:
Sports, long gone
Chess, squareless
Bed wetting just when drunk
Girls, Brazilian & Hairless.
Pill for tomorrow
Joint for today
Blow job, both ways
Smack for the spoon
Powdering the nose
I'd retrieve my name
If I could see my toes.
Friends by the bus, and fame at my
door, but can I get through to my inner
whore? Shapes, these shapes, are of
me, and when I squeeze my palms to my
face I recall Jesus, and Budha, my mother,
and Bermuda.
Yesterday, rectangle beds and round cakes.
Tomorrow, spheres crafted by aliens
Yesterday, a long straight plate of
Spaghetti, and sour table wine.
But that's dinner in-real time,
Not some man I see mirrored
By money and necessitous
Long term shifting, life in
Lycanthropic transparencies.
Author notes
Written October 25th, 2004
In a list
A contest entry
- Heart, Soul and Everything Inbetween. by TheWhiteKnight.
400 points, ended October 27, 2004, 24 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
Yes, it is actually.
-
Brazilian and Hairless - isn't that redundant...
This is a wonderful look into your, sometimes extremely twisted, mind!
Love this!
Cheers!
Laura
Edited on Oct 27, 4:36 p.m. because 'sp'. -
That's really what you get for looking in the mirror. When the angles are obtuse, you gotta approach from the fourth dimension (or so I hear).
I like this. The subject is horrible....but the glimpse rings true. -
wow. sounds like a hard life. Great write. Thanks for letting me into your head.
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