It's technical proficiency,
consistency, transparency,
and coherency
that he needs
to transplant the seeds,
transposing the pearls of wisdom
he is exposing
as plants that need
feeding and watering
for their growing,
whilst showing
what this knowing
fool is good for.

Grade school memories
of hidden recesses,
the depths
that he still possesses,
parts of his inner being,
poetry playing out in partly
remembered past dreams
that he pastes as prose
to placate the thorn that grows
despite that cancerous rose
attached.

Treacherous as
the lecherous man that’s
drawn to the hottest bodies
just to be scorched by their
blazing beauty,
able before disintegration
to translate his fascination
into something glorious.

Verbs become his identity,
acting out absurd words that
breach the vain veil
we used to hide
our truer selves.