A Satire For The Poet

A Satire For The Poet

A Poem by Amorette Duvannes

This is a freewrite, and a bad one. But I'm horrid and confused and moody. If you're going to judge me as a writer on any piece, please don't let it be this one.

A gay, wet shrimp
Weasels, office-bound,
Head tucked between the legs
The wooden-pegs, hanging from a rail

The planeted hoard
Of the human stench
The burnt wax of life
Dripping, dripping

I didn't want one
Nor two, especially not you
A liar laughs, laughs, laughs
For who? A framed forgery

A plinth-like gasp, reaching
Like vines and veins
Forgetting who they are
Forgetting what this is.

I apologise in spit
A gasp, grasping onto this
I'm so-rry, so-ree, so-free,
Liar, painting, tongue.

The chemical forensics
Whisk me across the cheek
A stew of all of this,
The Elitists, they.

They pinken the cheeks I hold,
This sodden paradox,
This pathetic limp
In my throat - the aorta of words - 

Skipping like sundance,
My filter, Satan's crying waterfall
The childish state still drips
And waxes the walls of who 

I am, the iris walking.
Siren, Sibyl, 
I, silent. An ogre of this mask,
A beast for this brain.

Don't reprimand me,
Command me, demand me,
The punishment sits inside,
You need not - I hide, abide - 

A cherry acre will be you
Throated man 
With the deep, deep sea
I laid at your feet

Pat me, puppy-me,
With the glazed eyes
(No disguise, and died),
The corset without skin.

© 2014 Amorette Duvannes

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Added on February 4, 2014
Last Updated on February 4, 2014
Tags: poetry, philosophy, philosophical, philosophical poetry, literature, lit, literary, death, poem, poems, poet, love, romance, social, ideology


Amorette Duvannes
Amorette Duvannes

Oh, aren't I silly - I'm just so silly. more..