"nuttiness" poems
How do I hate thee? I cannot count the ways.
That you are a clueless, narcissistic proto-fascist
Are words so true
They make me rue
That I’d not the durst
To use them first.
But here are a few
That well may be new
To vilipend you.
You move limacine-like
Into the nasty netherworld
Of our national nuttiness
Spinning whigmaleeries
That you prompt gailliardese
Among those not yet dead of brain.
You are a ********* a blatherskite,
And a fanforan.
So How do I hate thee?
With the breath,
Smiles, tears,
Of all my life,
And if Fate choose,
I shall but hate thee greater
After death.
- Dan Wick
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Sweet... so sweet at first; as if intending to overbear, and then in a moment's breath, the intensity having mellowed fades.
Next one's tongue does greet, a nuttiness that begs it to retreat; reviving dead memories of when you two first did meet.
Having now fallen from heights, be they slope or steep; the taste of your tongue becomes bittersweet. Ending this final kiss, silently pledging to lose neither hope nor sleep; heartbreak leaves the taste of caramel upon your teeth.
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC