I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
I wish I could read The orange correspondence Trees hoped stones would love
By D. J. Reddall6 months ago in Poets
Be not ashamed that your light is borrowed You owe no debt to the smug, swollen sun Thoughtless and profligate, long has he glowed
My lantern grows heavier every year I vowed to search for honesty with it So many listen, yet so few can hear Three thousand years of vacuous bullshit!
You don't understand Granted, there was some danger But I've found the ball!
Light loves to teach darkness subtle lessons In French, even insults contain music Mistakes in the dark create happy sons
Just keep it in mind: Eccentric, raunchy--go nuts Subversive? You'll die
Flat truths, uttered in the tone of a weather forecast Or the lunch specials Are difficult to digest They seem not to be food at all
The dead understand How vice and folly play out They try to warn us
I don't know how you do that with the dark Teaching it to dance with the light you are Shaking their jeers from your hair with a bark
Hell's the queue for hell Waiting makes you eat time raw Rotten molasses
Soon, winter will make Every coy exhalation Cold enough to see
An origami spermatozoa Aimed at the pale solar understudy ovum Language its inarticulate cargo Buoyed by wild hope Consider its legible skin
