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In an internally persuasive discourse daze
of 'Derevaun Serauan, Derevaun Seraun',
down Dereham Road. Dereham Road. Howl Zion days,
when I was porngaunt, scoreborn.

When I was scoreborn to sweet cur boons,
wild enough to grow psychoplasmic clothes
'low Eurolupine, lyricicatriced moon
(sphere rose over spherical rose).

Poignantly porngaunt, less Ly-tran-der
than deadnamed Dirk Diggler w/ pork Trigger's broom.
Phalloplasty patched fiddler's frankenfurter,
'Wayne Karoshi' my clinical nom-de-plume.

Turn on, tune in & grow up a picayun-
icorn, inconsequential & unique. I coulda been
a downtown tribune, downtown tribune,
but the scoreborn pourscorn like a teen.

Down Dereham Road, Dereham Road of dented
leopard, dented leopard roadkill went doom-
dated whelps. They never repented
the nepenthe, coz scoreborn follows scar boom.

Whether '88, '99, zerozero, borngaunt jeune
squelettes, diaspora of scorers crunch
urban recurrences. Pusherman in the moon,
still ivory dealer of youth's lush putsch.

We skinned up on CD cases, the record sleeves,
& upon the vinyl & CDs. Smaze mauve room,
where mauvais foi of paranoia, twigs & leaves
blessed us blandiose blasphemers maroon.

Tales so slight, vignette vinegaroon
- 'least I chased my own, tho' Hounds of Ultrabox
tore out my tindervox at the gag of moon-
set. Most porcelain storm?  Mornshocked.

Urb cubs slowcooked less porngaunt.
Afa, gluggy, June gloom? Rejoice, it's June!
Youth is wasted, but monsters I'd haunt,
acolytes I'd slough? Gone the same/ remain too soon.
Priyanka  Sep 2018
Windmills
Priyanka Sep 2018
Electrification of the heart
you think you can stop it?
This force of the wind,
assume you can hold it?
Naiveté, destiny lent that too.

Us fools, consumed by passion,
think there’s a force of will.
Read too much Sartre
but the Kafkaeque fate,
think you can avert it?

Turning around,
blades of the turbine
in the vast wasteland
that had burnt our desires,
we move together.

That desolate landscape
of our forlorn hearts,
touched occasionally
by a passing shower
too little, too sparse.  

Force of the wind,
this love that carries us
together, hence and forth,
fanning anew doused passions
putting the blades into action.

O dear providence!
Can you stop it? This,
current coursing through my veins
burning alive, the two of us
This passion, can you tame it?

I doubt,
the wheel has been set into motion.
Star-crossed lovers, can you fight your destiny, can you alter fate? For, love is the wind that drives you like blades of a windmill.
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