dialogues ii

….

…...

….....

…...........

…..................

…............

….....................

…............

….........................

….................

….....

barometric tendrils

psuedo-random and hybrid sets

growing like ivy in the clutches of time

such a

chocking

but actualising

grasp

..huh? what?

oh yes! sorry, sorry

come in, come in,

..you know,

I too, once, like how you are now,

was here too

very

present.

Aha! Oh yes!

Permit me a mock stifled cry of ostentatious self derision,

'hee hee hee'

aaaaaahhh..

I really was pitiful back then.

seeing you there now, I feel oh so whimsical and overcome

with

ahem

sorry.

..dank and musty cellars,

hashish and a can of beans.

(baked, not fried, -we were really naive enough to believe that?- )

had it all back then though, didn't we?

By which I mean we had nothing,

but the conviction

that obligation was something that actually meant something

rather than a Cryptocurrency in a Ponzi scheme,

(with a slice of lemon)

confidence intervals stockpiled in the stocks of confidence men.

Derivative markets

oh, so very much so

so very

derivative

idiomatic

and *******

asinine.

..Still, it does harken to its era, doesn't it?

'detached and disposable.'

toothpicks

limbs

ideals

all that

goodness!

I was supposed to be offering advice, wasn't I?

Interpolate up some mediated conjecture.

But the kids can look after themselves just fine, can't they?

So our fiscal policy seems to think;

'I wager we shear up the youth

to buy shares in implementing youth wages.'

sorry, I guess it's an antiquated complaint,

“think of the children!” , they say?

Can't they see,

the whole **** market's aimed at the proto-teens??

we do it all for them the little snots.

laissez faire welfare

hedge or double down?

A shrubbery?

Or a bacon butty with bread as ****** chicken and cheese?

(I just vomited in my mouth a little,

(how pastiche))

See, and people ask why I’m trapped in the past;

the future's got me car sick.

and honestly

we're just brimming with history

(the scourge of post-modernity)

like a black moss spewed on the walls

Poisoning visions and Rheumatic fever

tearing up our lovely

lovely

pacified

pay and display

psuedo

proto

posterity

….....

….................

….........................

…............

….....................

…............

…..................

…...........

….....

…...

….

Request permission to use this poem

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write