In The Suicide Pond Where Drowns Dementias' Reign

aDarkerMind



in the suicide pond where drowns dementias' reign

the blue blooded knuckles of the crab apple stove

dusts the spitroasted pelican heart with benign lumps of marigold bees';

with a fully erected heart

pumping blood through forgotten trespass on a golden syrup sponge of deserted thoughts

flooding the eyelids of a walrus tusk as it disembarks fron Southampton Quay

bound for the sunshine hills of a muskrat spliff on bended knees

smoking the chocking locks of  a sunglass eye in a rolling tobaccoo ball.

where are the wise mans trouers?

where is my cultured breeze?

that blows with the flow of scarlet eyes

at the wake of the cactus leaves as the butler cries.

where is the dripping lard that burns my eternal greed?

as it seeds your powdered wedding ring as it sours my tasting of your post natal hormone seed;

bleed with the sun

feed on the sublime interroagation

as the prison guard snickers with the confessional sums of love minus fourteen below.

blow my Brighton rock

with the glass eyed sharing of a purse string

beat with the heart of a Portugese tale of stories ten miles tall

as its pockets my rear ending smash

and crashes into the sublime introvention of loves most beautiful drip

as my enemy sautes the potato of my grinding pole.

feel and be felt by the  touching tongue on my vericose vein

in a suicide pond where dies dimentias reign.

with a gin and tonic smile

I will stroll the miles with my observing buckets of a painted sunrise

and picture the squeezing of an envelope eye in a letter from the queen;

one hundred years of a plausable regime

it is what is seems

hanging on a boatyard chain

as I sail with the pigeons tail with his anobolic steroid and his pressure pill

spills my blood on the feet of a mooning flea

pictures my ass on his as I grind with the fallen leaves in his pockets of abnormal refrain.

jacket my potato fries

and waltz with the pretruding brisket until we dive into the bakers baskets ball

where hides my inner flame of a sectioned mood;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 3rd, 2021 13:35
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 13
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Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'where is the dripping lard
    that burns my eternal greed?
    as it seeds
    your powdered wedding ring
    as it sours
    my tasting of your post natal hormone seed;
    bleed with the sun
    feed on the sublime interroagation
    as the prison guard snickers
    with the confessional sums of love'..
    wow!
    although I think I need a little help in context
    to guide me, sadly
    I lack the brain capacity to comprehend fully...
    still, of what little I've gleaned
    I've insatiably devoured
    with my glutenous greed for all-things imbued
    with that artistic integrity: of Poetic majesty...



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