If only I could find
A way to communicate
Before I should succumb
To some inevitable fate
They even now... sit resolute
Upon my mind's perimeter fence
Like vultures drawn to  "mordum"

The pointless word now sentral to the view I will not yield... but use it as my shield to be the pointless compass and to help any who get lost
Now if that's not cold... Then I must be Jack Frost!

So my last poem has arrived
Upon the wings of eviscerated lips
That rendered down from my own skin
From which these soulless words were ripped

Understanding or not makes no head way
Into the scornful Stormfront of all future chaos
As we fight and fail this complex front
That slams us with the Futures disregard  - as it will discard
Those volumes of words that do get tossed
Away.....
,,,,,, and into.....
.... A bitter past while reverting humans to gestures or a grunt
And poetry become so abject and simple to execute or write
Where any deal made without real knowledge
Come Sans of a way to ever measure cost

For I admit I am a helpless victim
A problem Fading into rust
A sightless eye that sees all
Without knowing who to trust

A quandary in search of a question
A question that has no voice
That has fallen into a old and deep and hidden well
Unknown to all... So keep searching... Or Surrender... As those be our only choice