Your polidicktate flag
is draped across your chest
while you sit... stuck
in the depth of your righteous chair
wet flatus.... dripping from your mouth
I’m looking through you
to see - your insides are jellified.
The morality of my patience –
is worn down for you.
So trundle off – to a stop or three
no money for the hungry
no value for the trees
nothing for the river –
only words... that flow.
All I hear now – is the quiet.
As you head off -
towards the twilight of the dead
elusive is the west – all the politicians
each state ... meant for us
dark rooms, where papers lie in jest.
Flags are burning – hidden
in the dark of night.
While you feast on bodies –
left out...suffering in the cold.
When all we want to do
is come home -
and drink the warmth of truth.
is draped across your chest
while you sit... stuck
in the depth of your righteous chair
wet flatus.... dripping from your mouth
I’m looking through you
to see - your insides are jellified.
The morality of my patience –
is worn down for you.
So trundle off – to a stop or three
no money for the hungry
no value for the trees
nothing for the river –
only words... that flow.
All I hear now – is the quiet.
As you head off -
towards the twilight of the dead
elusive is the west – all the politicians
each state ... meant for us
dark rooms, where papers lie in jest.
Flags are burning – hidden
in the dark of night.
While you feast on bodies –
left out...suffering in the cold.
When all we want to do
is come home -
and drink the warmth of truth.
I like the pace of this poem; how it moves. Very lilting and very raw. A complex, beautiful poem!
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