"nincompoops" poems
Is this true
darling
what I hear
that the cult you submitted o
won’t let you see mum and dad?
And little Tom you left behind?
That the leader takes you nights
to tell you
God wants him to
explore your body and give Him an account?
Is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the cult you submitted to
has convinced you
Last Days are here
and in the fear of it all
you **** in your pants?
O lucky you
you’re the chosen one
you make holy water
so call in your cult
and let them drink it
or let them all lick it off your legs
tell them
darling
*‘Here drink of this
the holy water
or lick it off
salt and urea
produced with faith and fear’*
Give it back to the cult
tell them it is benediction
of Last Days
and they who drink it
will be amongst the elect
and those who lick it off
will sit on the right hand side of God;
and darling
produce prodigious amounts
as in the time of the Great Flood
tell them to queue and not squabble
there’s plenty for everyone of you
and if they say
they’re hungry
if you could
bring in holy food
tell them
a visit to the Scurvy Dogs Pound
can easily be arranged
O is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the intelligence
and mind
nature took so long to make in you
you blew it
on charlatans and nincompoops
and yourself became one?
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 11:39 PM UTC
Lighting sparklers
in each other's eyes,
in a celebration of pretence
and deceit,
They drink fine sparkling wine,
dine, dance and ravel
make love again and again;
two insatiable serpents-
in perpetual heat,
spitting copious venom,
till it becomes evident,
that not a drop, is left.
As dawn break out,
post-coital hatred reigns,
they, start to fight each other,
without slightest hesitation,
where does love figure in this life of zombies?
empty wine bottles come handy,
feeling thankful to the orgiastic nights,
they make good use of all that.
and,
when the heat dies down,
they kiss and make up,
sob, hug and apologize, two nincompoops,
like programmed emotion machines,
And how awful!
they start the next round with gusto,
all over again!
The morning sun, peeping in,
would find it hard to believe,
this utterly shameful game,
going on day in and day out.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 5:54 AM UTC
Is this true
darling
what I hear
that the cult you submitted o
won’t let you see mum and dad?
And little Tom you left behind?
That the leader takes you nights
to tell you
God wants him to
explore your body and give Him an account?
Is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the cult you submitted to
has convinced you
Last Days are here
and in the fear of it all
you **** in your pants?
O lucky you
you’re the chosen one
you make holy water
so call in your cult
and let them drink it
or let them all lick it off your legs
tell them,
darling:
‘Here drink of this
the holy water
or lick it off
salt and urea
produced with faith and fear’
Give it back to the cult
tell them it is benediction
of Last Days
and they who drink it
will be amongst the elect
and those who lick it off
will sit on the right hand side of God;
and darling
produce prodigious amounts
as in the time of the Great Flood
tell them to queue and not squabble
there’s plenty for everyone of you
and if they say
they’re hungry
if you could
bring in holy food
tell them
a visit to the Scurvy Dogs Pound
can easily be arranged
O is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the intelligence
and mind
nature took so long to make in you
you blew it
on charlatans and nincompoops
and yourself became one?
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 2:44 AM UTC
i see her
rambling along the sidewalk
sometimes the street
shaking
her body shakes
her hands, her head
shaking
and looking down
she's always looking down
passing her
i try to meet her eyes
look at me
i silently urge
sometimes she does
sometimes she doesn't
but when she does
it's only a glance
up
like she's caught underneath a huge tree branch
that has fallen on her
and has her trapped
her eyes seem to be pleading
always
but for what
i do not know
and she mumbles
grumbles
has conversations within herself
with herself
being pleased with herself
and shaking
shaking her head
at all the inconsequential
beings that surround her
for in her mind
feeble or otherwise
she is sane
an alone sane being
surrounded by nincompoops
and ninnies
who don't understand
or care to understand
that she, and she alone
is normal
or as normal as can be
in this crazy, insane
mixed up world.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC