.
appear to steal the glasses from our futures
in the sutures of their eyes
hungry spirits drinking mineral kingdoms dry
speaking vacuums full of meaningless words written for them by
albino, hairless moles harnessed to human treadmills of utter rubbish bins
creating awful rackets to hide what lurks behind within infernal dins
There;
Is an invertebrate serpent king coiled in loops of smoke screen snares
With interchangeable sets of lacquered fingernail lorgnettes rolling the I Ching
There;
Are troops of still born infant soldiers marching backwards down to whining off key tunes of tainted pablum nursery tales
Gargantuan colossus monuments constructed from sheer nothingness
consume the hollow regions of their battle cries as they march to please the king
Madness prints itself upon the garish lairs of digital servants to warped despotic thrones
There;
In the sutures of our eyes
They appear to steal the glasses from our futures
Faces without features wearing mannequin disguise . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 883 times
Written on 2016-01-09 at 00:59
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Mannequin Disquise
face without features wearing mannequin disguiseappear to steal the glasses from our futures
in the sutures of their eyes
hungry spirits drinking mineral kingdoms dry
speaking vacuums full of meaningless words written for them by
albino, hairless moles harnessed to human treadmills of utter rubbish bins
creating awful rackets to hide what lurks behind within infernal dins
There;
Is an invertebrate serpent king coiled in loops of smoke screen snares
With interchangeable sets of lacquered fingernail lorgnettes rolling the I Ching
There;
Are troops of still born infant soldiers marching backwards down to whining off key tunes of tainted pablum nursery tales
Gargantuan colossus monuments constructed from sheer nothingness
consume the hollow regions of their battle cries as they march to please the king
Madness prints itself upon the garish lairs of digital servants to warped despotic thrones
There;
In the sutures of our eyes
They appear to steal the glasses from our futures
Faces without features wearing mannequin disguise . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 883 times
Written on 2016-01-09 at 00:59
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text