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An unsuspecting observer would view his property as bland With subterranean secrets rarely breaching for detection When pointed ends met with his cracking winter surface The sludge bubbled out filling every empty space His inner oil to some Was black gold Prosperity To others still, a tar pit worthy of dinosaur death He grew as a sheet of ice which could harbor skating lessons Or unseen, send auto travelers in lack of traction spirals His light-stealing sticky venom clotted neural networks A fat tarantula plucking whims from the web between two ears He fraternized with Morpheus On odds With cousin evens Awakening unsure if he were caught in silky cobs Or the hands above it all He certainly felt like a marionette, dangling on feeble feet Pulled by the digits of ink stained impulse Hate, tug Create, tug They made him dance to their tattooed meter He felt the crunch of beetles and flies His temples throbbed as tar dripped from his eyes Drops forming clefs, pictures, and words I am but a stencil, he buzzed
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Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
118. Stencil 11/2/11
An unsuspecting observer would view his property as bland With subterranean secrets rarely breaching for detection When pointed ends met with his cracking winter surface The sludge bubbled out filling every empty space His inner oil to some Was black gold Prosperity To others still, a tar pit worthy of dinosaur death He grew as a sheet of ice which could harbor skating lessons Or unseen, send auto travelers in lack of traction spirals His light-stealing sticky venom clotted neural networks A fat tarantula plucking whims from the web between two ears He fraternized with Morpheus On odds With cousin evens Awakening unsure if he were caught in silky cobs Or the hands above it all He certainly felt like a marionette, dangling on feeble feet Pulled by the digits of ink stained impulse Hate, tug Create, tug They made him dance to their tattooed meter He felt the crunch of beetles and flies His temples throbbed as tar dripped from his eyes Drops forming clefs, pictures, and words I am but a stencil, he buzzed
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ERRPoetry
American
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
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