Lumps of Flesh
Stomping on skeletal shoots,
of green and brown,
lumps of flesh roam the pathways,
now filled with sun.
Day and night,
the endless trot.
Stomp crunch, squish,
eerie greenish goo, under the grit.
Lumps fiddling,
over the spot.
Lumps yanking,
the sparked initial gob that doesn't fit.
Unwelcome the stump,
glowing lonely in the dark deep.
Lumps open the canal,
rip the existing lumpy sleep.
Once ended the stumpy creation,
the day resounds with condemnation.
Lump of flesh,
busy only with itself,
Lump of flesh,
excuses printed on a shelf.
One day awaken to the torrid reality,
The growing stump, would-be lump; a friend and company.
Auterkeia Nihil
March 22 2007
Poetry by Autie
Read 1983 times
Written on 2007-03-24 at 17:59
Tags Lumps  Condemn  Growth 
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