This is a revision of poem originally entitled Shadow Play. NEEDS ONE MORE.
Poems often allude to exchanges of bot fill and foam — accepts the dilemmas internet allows for and creates.
As being staged as it happens, as a resolution and resurrection of sorts mid the in flating,
my little end of the world balloons.
Which according to poets past tense, is part of the hell will tell of Pandora’s candy box, as plight of civilizations, runs along on that edge of greatness and disasters
in other ways, just the same old thing. Smidgens with Dorothy Parker’s influence. A poem that mocks itself? Yes and no.
Also up against Ben Johnson, of all the fellas, doing the twist. The ending canoodles with the ridiculous.
Chains and Chairs
Songs about love chains… filling the airs, shades fly fishing over a chair, as a pair — Alchemies of the sub versive… Pour and mix chat a chasms mildly widly miss possessed spells and shells, instilled with tests. Tie me up, mind into paint beast be knackered …