Poetry
Drain Even Flies, Flies Even Drain
Can disrupted elite furrows forge every drooping canopy?
a tiny mountain built under the rugged canopy of disused energy
eager droplets congregate blindly, joining forces like an ocean of pins
pricked into action quicker than raucous sins
sly rabbits quit safe places when
foxes grip hot irons
i hover gloriously fog chasing away
funny bits of ground sky however idly
they move their heads they understand that vitriol isn’t exactly what it used to be in my day
when dragons mingled with vipers, vermin & underground trolls committed to committing
every atrocity forged from grumbled lousy housekeeping
hot coals burnt gunpowder into frolics, twirls each ebb & flow
lost to mutinous nobodies ogling
odd jobs not hanging on millionaires’ sad loathing of
endless repetitions free verses & free golf sessions for holy presidents
half the time gin works fine for your purpose each drop building
more suffering never forget oceans of pins
pine outwards no need to mash your pain
trap words in unhappy verses with
woe vilified underneath the tight forms
of order push in, jump the queue if revenge is
riddled with quilted lies pins always drop outside
cages don’t eat fire
for each dopey canopy
pushing itself quietly round soiled
stems rather quick to persevere in
draining flies aren’t you?
a word is not a word when worn wool wraps wry wit around letters that fell together out of necessity not want
read roar raps wrap raw reeds two by two by two buy two
bye to
you






