Let the babble stop Let the brain farts cease Let pleasure be your guide And the poet slip into their persona, Like a performance uniform, A slip dress An existential throw up of thoughts like Bad Chinese food. The kind that climbs out of Tupperware, slippers ready
Of Tupperware and ready slippers ***** out takeaway rice. Performance uniforms sit up in bed, Babbling about existential poets. The bad Chinese food Waltzes with its guide, Brain dribbles out of nostrils. Dear night-shoes, This babble has ceased, Pleasurely.
From my Poetry Collection: 'PERFORMANCE ARTIST POETRY AND BRAIN FARTS FOR UNSOLICITED MICROWAVE HEADS' (yes, all caps)