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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4677 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week December Crumbling Ian Marlowe December is crumbling under the wandering eye of a scurrilous sun, like dirty snowflakes we digress into the mundane: You with those emotions that get in the way of that and this and I mumbling condolences for the way things often go as we spit-trip on colloquialism while the world revolves on its complacency with six billion passengers pondering the Rorschachian legend on a crease-strewn map gone through too many fingers, passed among too many hands -- We are as molecules humping in the night, replete in our randomness, chaotic in our endeavor, as particular as the drivel on the lips of a feral god trying to wipe us clean with the back of its hairy hand -- And we are back to you and I with this and that as randomness goes stiff like the rods and cones in my wandering eyes. As always, I will try not to notice the spittle on your too full lips and what goes on there as December crumbles and six billion molecules find their libidos in the dark. |
