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The Brain Is Penury
by Philip F De Pinto
the almighty mull
was not permitted tenure
in its own skull
but elsewhere not quite sure
or certain
to mature
in hell
all is concealed that is not congealed
sufficient for revelation
nor sensation
behind the strut of curtains
the notion which limps
is ripe for surgery
the brain is penury
for second thoughts
the holding tank
for notions which rank
not first nor last
but mediocre
at no time of the penultimate day
or night was he permit his dark side
or his light to come out and play
for all that such are worth
to lose your shirt
from where you would blurt out your chest hairs
blurt out the hurt
the ecstasy
and notions which stood on the side line
would rather hurt
than convert
or waste their time finding your shirt
she thought it hic
was pissed at the melody
not the lyric
if the lie be known
lyrics have no reason to live
and neither has melody
if it's not his idea
it is not an idea - at all at all
but an aberration
something ranking
well below a notion
the idea that anyone
could have an idea
nauseated him
last call for Philip Morris
last call to
come out and play
hop on the teeter totter
get a partner - lest teeter tottering solo
has you back sliding
into clay as yet to form
once clay
once an idea has formed
in your skull
it is no longer mull
it is deceased - good only as mulch
and is corpse ripe for your pluck
it's rigor mortis on which to sound a note
still not pliant
compliant with life rife with itself
life will you be my legally wedded wife?
certainly exclaims life!
If I don't have to do your dishes
or windows
or iron your long lost shirts
none of which were lucky
none of which you wore
the day you won my soul
or stole
01/18/2013 Posted on 01/18/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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