a hot pot of burnt porridge
dished up in the smoldering
crockery of our grueling truce.
We swim the thinning broth bath,
in a wonton spare of salt licked simmer.
Serve up the usurp of our souls
to a bland humanity of hungry trolls
and trippy trollops in search
of the eternal bitter green.
We lick a lollipop of watch and wait;
two serfs in a soup kitchen for the regal...
"No seconds on the gruel sir?"
"Please sir, have some more-
(we snicker in deference).
Soup... our salty brothel
in a slippery bubble of crafty sin...
a chive or two and the old shoe
of roads that lead us away
to the bare bones of wander.
"Please sir, is that so wrong?"
Call me weird, but I am connecting this one to bribes and politics. Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteNo my dear, you aren't weird, just imaginatively correct. Great assessment!
ReplyDeleteWow! I just love this.
ReplyDeleteThanks Megan! Still experimenting.
ReplyDelete