"whint" poems
***** Miss Whint took a flight on a Saturday night
***** Miss Whint showed the world her insides
If science can’t show her a number
She’ll take despair to a mystical side
And the world will be her child
If you can find a path to the sea
I’ll call you a human being
If that’s worth believing
Faces articulate so cantankerously
And lose any intention for their mind
While we grow, yet still coagulate
Perhaps we’ll see, her cruelty’s bound to time
And we’ll be fine
In her broken home is where she dominates
And hates her own cherry tree
Who screamed immensely
***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
She lost emotionality
When she confided in reality
***** Miss Whint has the look of a saccharin knife
***** Miss Whint made it hard to live a life
When we’re all strangers to the sun
The working man’s light is the muzzle flash of a gun
But we’re just having fun
She sweeps the open road with love
And a diamond compartment
Twisting the road-bent
Indignant children are the fodder of her highway
That leads to a city in the wane
While she eats the air and lives another day
Deep lines accentuate her mighty wake
And that’s okay
The fools are left to smiles and opulence
She makes them find sense in their own pretence
Preaching, “there’s no end”
***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
You lost emotionality
When you confided in reality
If her mouth was wider when she began
Maybe we could have had some fun
But how could she care for what happened minutes ago?
There is an open vent to useless things to sow
If her eyes were brighter when we lost our lives
Maybe we could be satisfied
But typewriters stay their hand to the climate’s cold command
And we’re left to indulge in what still stands
So, as I wrote this like a letter
To a lady of vicious weather
Someone then caught me and said,
“Swallow those words or I’ll have your head”
So I said,
“This note has no point, so go count your coins”
***** Miss Whint has the look of the fourth of July
***** Miss Whint took a ruler to the human life
When we’re all frightened by the sun
The working man’s light is the masquerade of a gun
But we’d all rather run
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 1:07 PM UTC