Lucid bore

Everyone walking

Round and round, round in circles

Quite quickly as well.
A woman looks on

Ice melts out of her eyeballs

She can’t believe it
Salamander’s work.

Matters only to those sorts

Reptiles adjust quiet
A mongoose of hope

A tree not from tomorrow

Nothing free from sand
Young and not south bound

Nobody waits til noon yet

Portions cut from glee
The emotion, joy,
Is used by leeches to feed

On a starving babe
Dead zealots feed you

Provisions of trust, honour,

Nobility, sex.

2 thoughts on “Lucid bore

  1. I don’t know whether you are serious about your poetry, or, not, but, this one is quite good, and shows you might want to explore that side of your art more…


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