Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
***** wobbling Buddha I think you may have cursed me With your eyes closed Picking at a chronic scab Delicately placing the detritus Into your mouth Ha! You didn't think I saw you do that Did you? ****** you off Didn't I? A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive And I'm dismissed Smoking, hacking gargoyle Glued to your grimy floor Staring at me through tight squinted eyes Damning each and every Soul you've ever known Have I been convinced That I am exactly like you? Or that you can send me to hell? I think you may already have A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive I'm down in the hole But one thing must be said: You have a wonderful collection of dolls Every peach pink pucker-lipped face Stares blindly Lined up in rows on shelves In an unused room Their feet scuffed with black tar Little silk dresses torn Or naked **** plastic Unashamed toys Five gates, uncaring Five doors, barred forever Heads filled with air Still they feel more than you Still they feel more than you Do
0
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 10:25 AM UTC
Wobbling Buddha
***** wobbling Buddha I think you may have cursed me With your eyes closed Picking at a chronic scab Delicately placing the detritus Into your mouth Ha! You didn't think I saw you do that Did you? ****** you off Didn't I? A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive And I'm dismissed Smoking, hacking gargoyle Glued to your grimy floor Staring at me through tight squinted eyes Damning each and every Soul you've ever known Have I been convinced That I am exactly like you? Or that you can send me to hell? I think you may already have A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive I'm down in the hole But one thing must be said: You have a wonderful collection of dolls Every peach pink pucker-lipped face Stares blindly Lined up in rows on shelves In an unused room Their feet scuffed with black tar Little silk dresses torn Or naked **** plastic Unashamed toys Five gates, uncaring Five doors, barred forever Heads filled with air Still they feel more than you Still they feel more than you Do
from Bipolar Confessional http://bipolarconfessional.blogspot.com © 2010 by James Arthur Casey
james-arthur-casey
Written by
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 10:25 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem