April 5, 2015

#NaPoWriMo 2015 no.5a

from the 'bunnyland' series,
a photo by Alena Beljakova ©

               playing poem, mostly for endless melodies...

once we were 
nude simian faces
now we're rude mob races
chanting 'gimme again'...

we are pressed 
buttons overhead 
we hear bells 
particle suspension 
tonal cellular breakdown 
rituals of growth 
rust and not 
always adhered 
to schedules...

this means whenever 
we felt whatever
to be heaven 
or sate palaces  
with no repercussions 
versus prison 
bars guards and jars 
of our specimens 
we had decided 
these slipknot systems
could hold us in...

modernity holds 
royal DNA lines 
behind thick glass 
succession might mean 
getting off blue rock 
before little yellow star 
starts its pop 
goes the weasel bit...

fear can be mass candy 
and clothing for almost 
any regarded sanctimony...

why else is good will 
clandestine sad cello 
in theaters 
at the ends 
of things...

I know that I'm selfish, 
can you hear me poem...

I'm drunk 
on another Easter
I can get away with it
seeking sweets 
in any basket 
I can find 
here, mostly now(s)...

how 'bout you, poem
what are 
you drinking 
and waiting 
to get away for...?


No comments:

Post a Comment