"meatsacks" poems
there is no worse folly
a raconteur can make than
the forgotten pen
or utensil
acrylic or stick in dirt - so be it
the dwarf ignored
the arbitrary sidekick
the austere tool
the maker of magic (also known as,
history, as
recorded by big, bad meatsacks
and sometimes hungry sheep luxuriously garbed as
wolves)
who/what/when/where/why
never/stop/asking/questions
my deity, the earth said
no one is right in this world
we tells it hows we sees it
i reject your reality, you undo mine
with a simple twist of your mouth-muscle
who's to say who has a say
I say, no one not one none of us.
I say, keep writing bards.
the world's a desolate & treacherous stage
the world's a blank & ***** canvas
the world's not so much an open book,
as it is an open cave with mysteries deeper
than ocean depths.
I say, keep writing bards.
swim through the carpal tunnels,
the holy grail lies somewhere down there,
it looks and acts like an ink well.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC