Busted Lightbulbs
A path of logic, pathogens
Impeach a host annulled;
A pathologic path again
The first transmission:
Vials essential,
"Vile essence shall
Be rended now inert!"
In fervor too overt,
"The spark within
Cannot refute
A method to desert!"
Free from syntax
Free from sin, tax
Shared shards left behind
The glassy masses
Hindered by a vanity
Obey the doubtless zealotry
In fever to deport
The soul from carnal bulk
The Anti-body Party
Breaks them,
Frees them all
I write poems to pass the time, and sometimes it turns out well. Updates most weeks, usually on Tuesday. 2011 was a year for narrative works, generally using standard poetic tools. 2012 will be focused on homophonic and backwards/forwards pieces.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Inherits
Inherits
In her, it's
A steamed air
Buckling under caution
Puffiness in the veins
(we've no patients)
Puffin nests in the vane
Weaves no patience
Final spoken,
"Given all I had
I earn pyre right
Beside the golden"
She passes on
Vain inquire, the
Esteemed erred
As teemed heirs
Neurotic,
Flummoxed by her will,
Inherit
Iron pyrite
In her, it's
A steamed air
Buckling under caution
Puffiness in the veins
(we've no patients)
Puffin nests in the vane
Weaves no patience
Final spoken,
"Given all I had
I earn pyre right
Beside the golden"
She passes on
Vain inquire, the
Esteemed erred
As teemed heirs
Neurotic,
Flummoxed by her will,
Inherit
Iron pyrite
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A Thorny Subject
A Thorny Subject
The Owl landing low
Confides in conifers
A warbled wooden warning,
"Trees, beware the men!
They'll tear you limb by limb
Enshrine your pulp as bored
(as in, a two-by-four)
They'll lead you hammered
Leave you screwed
Leave you without leaves
The Ash will earn his name
The Palm will lose her claim
As Governess of Sand
Now please, oh trees, attend:
Beware!
Beware the man!"
The trees divided,
"Goofy Owl,
What a hoot!
The men will bear our fruit
And surely cherish from it."
Others heeded
Chafed on budding teeth
Configured worser bites
Than their bark
The Owl landing low
Confides in conifers
A warbled wooden warning,
"Trees, beware the men!
They'll tear you limb by limb
Enshrine your pulp as bored
(as in, a two-by-four)
They'll lead you hammered
Leave you screwed
Leave you without leaves
The Ash will earn his name
The Palm will lose her claim
As Governess of Sand
Now please, oh trees, attend:
Beware!
Beware the man!"
The trees divided,
"Goofy Owl,
What a hoot!
The men will bear our fruit
And surely cherish from it."
Others heeded
Chafed on budding teeth
Configured worser bites
Than their bark
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