Glorifying Worms

To E. A. Poe, my Master..

                                     One hides when he hears
ghosts put in place, fairy warp to the graveyard
-through his words empty walls might be inspired
with bloodied quill twice more to tunnel
into lyrics from blisters and bed sores.
But should a minor be able,
ever, to write about nothing-
that is, everything mobile- should we not,
after all, be lying around waiting
for its black lies to gather?
We mean, master, our jealousy is no
spur of the moment; it is habit
like black clouds spitting, the fire illuminating
the worms the way your voice
glorifies them.

Reviews

[dreaming dame]

Nice:) Like the blisters and bed sores:P

[Coyote Poetry]

Some folks don't like worms. Thank to worms. The soil is good and nothing is wasted. Even us. I enjoyed the poem. Real story leading the reader to real places and thoughts. I like the strong ending to the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[_]

EDGAR ALLAN POE!!!! HE'S MY HERO TOO!!!! EVEN THOUGH I SUCK AT WRITING IN HORROR. ALRIGHT OFF THE CAPS LOCK. Kk that's better, anyway woot woot! I loved this, it was amazing! Like whoa....O.O :D AWESOME!!! X3