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ISIS smells like teen-spirit

by Johnny Crimson

A legend love
the fevered hug
a sweating sickness
the severed bug.

A creaking kiss
leviathans 'wrist
a putrid hovel
Gregorian cyst.

A dreaming man
Capricorn's plan
a mercuric armchair
six-hundred grand.

A sinners suck
Devonians luck
a Cancers curse
a Mummers ruck.

Silver tongues
believe the guns
a sheriffs daughter
overabundance of funds.

A writer lost
a sonnet's cost
a raping inkblot
a hollow cause.

02/12/2015

Posted on 02/12/2015
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 02/13/15 at 01:25 AM

No one thinks their 'cause' is 'hollow' or they would be on the other side. Sides are fences we build and place people on one side or the other. It seems to be the only defense we understand. Nice write JC!

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/15/15 at 11:04 PM

That "hollow cause" is costing dearly in lives and attention. A devastation from Hell.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/19/15 at 03:52 PM

Fascinating. Thanks!

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