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A moment of extropy [from bad to verse]
by Laura Doominertia's seduction
solicits my clutch
at the ultimate straw:
I don't like people much
End-game eXtortions
Translating Redactions
Outsourcing Propriety
Intolerance
Smut Mathematics
but a poet, I love
in the heat of the scat
exquisiting this
and delightfilling that
at a stroke we are sailing
the seventh disease
under auspices spliced
from our cellular sleaze
so tease me by title
and play with my mind
fuck me with fingers
that force-feed me blind
defile me with juices
to fertilize words
that deliver sublimes
and tie tongues to absurds
bury me feathered
and stab me with quills
render me backwards
hung up on your stills
moodswings and blue genes
chic clichés declare
a mutation dilating
the eye of despair
let us shrive in the sweat
of such shady endeavours
our drivel will shrivel
a corpse of forevers
the cortex descending
subversive belief
in articulate pleasure
by primal relief
snakes and ladders evolve
into dactylic dissidents
pimping and pushing for
venal extravagance
tricyclic stability
mundane rendition
as opposites lock
into drive repetition
so ignore my transition
as prose politician
i rate my position
beneath a musician 05/14/2013 Posted on 05/14/2013
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/25/13 at 10:38 PM Love the rap style of this. Can't imagine it coming out any other way. So bad...it's GOOD GOOD GOOD. |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 05/26/13 at 12:38 PM This rattling rhythm kept me reading so rapidly that I had to go back to dissect each verse. Love, in particular, "So tease me by title..." and so on, but then I would... ^_~ |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/27/13 at 01:08 PM Gad, this is good. You and words - you place them like balloons at a huge party, knowing exactly what bumping this one up against that one will create. As for musicians, they can't fly without audio, while your words soar easily on their own. |
| Posted by LK Barrett on 05/28/13 at 08:01 PM ...I crow, I chortle, I ooze with pure glee, I spin widdershins, dashing my brains out and happily, dizzily replete. Better shot at and missed than $#%@ at and hit. This ain't no shit. Thank you, wordesse. LK |
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