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One Monument's Regurgitation
by Philip F De Pinto
He stumbling leaned on a fog - columnar in shape
As everywhere was sacred ground
He profaning in his heart inserted fags of fingers in his mouth
Heaved up the old bulimia of camaraderie ships within the fatty
Least secured and noteworthy portions of himself
Into cupped hands as a way of mis - communique
And we stumbling and having no such columnar fog to lean on
Sickened and prurient in our fashion
Regurgitate what we cannot communicate
On grounds less sacred
Like rough hewn monuments made slick in the editorial wind
Regurgitate bulimic portions of themselves they cannot communicate
And down rush the angels and up the demons
From their seventh heaven or hell
To lap up not as a lack of communication but nutrient
01/18/2013 Posted on 01/18/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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