Our modern philosophers refuse the bitterness of poison
as an insult to their immortality and imorality .
And honestly I say to you that the philosopher
is as useless as the poet !
.................................................................;
My friend Idris is dead ,
killed by an venomous rhyme .
My friend Idris was a funny crazy guy
and his bad fever bothered
the old english ladies who like to enjoy
their tea in the faded alleys of their memories...
Do they remember ever being deflowered ?
My friend Idris,you're all alone
in the padded room of your dellusions !
The circle of well-meaning poets
can't tolerate a buffon who sounds 9/11
every time a lunatic sweeps a tower on the chesboard !
My friend Idris,you are condemned to the gulag
of pestiferous who dared to lmagine that freedom,
walked on the thread of an acrobat in the clouds !
.My face will disappear from the photo .....
I 'll catch the next cloud !
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 7th, 2024 08:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments2
Your piece is impressive!
I have not a thing about poetry !
Nice. I fear the old ladies with their tea Greatly.
I greatly appreciate your sens of humor !
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.