Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

you are in the era of decline and decay
you are an infant swaddled in memory
despite this pyramid of days -
this manifest of hours
you have nothing to say
that you haven't said already
to ears closing from the inside out

it is both the height and depth of presumption
to complain of life's inequities
you have courted despair in the muck of the gutter
with hindsight you have entered
the alley of tarts and thieves
you wonder why they have picked your pocket
next time perhaps it will be different

the lonely size you up and seek better company
the women walk around you like a puddle
the men grow tired of kicking your ass
the children roll their eyes and giggle to your face
you beat a drum and beat it louder
all who know you apologize for your presence
you sleep in a corner and call it home
mom and dad scold you ad infinitum

and because of this or maybe in spite
you have taken to wearing red silk cravats
you perform the outrageous and call it style
your wisdom hangs from hunched shoulders
cheap, baggy seersucker suit
you apply ointments and subtle pigments
to fool the timid and unsuspecting
the heat stifles - you marinate
in the sauce of your unmet desires
you beat the drum and beat it harder
you converse with echoes and pale substitutes
you kiss, and bless the blade that disembowels

ah yes, the blue funk of dusty tea trolly afternoons. wiping tears with a red cravat. well done, friend.

~westcoast

I am amazed by this piece. Whatever folly carried you to such admirable vocabulary and talent, i would consider that perhaps : you could do it some more....this is of corse what you despise, that it is never enough, or is it now?
bravo

rough interesting writing here!!!!!!!

sometimes
history
red temptation
one-sided sofa
Huxley for Reader´s Digest

(some of the words that crossed my mind while reading it!)