Poem Untitled


Poem does not speak; it waits 

Around the corner, listened faithful

Like an orchard bird on the bush, 

Left no trace at the blinding sunlight

Words of monolithic proem

Staring at the bed, you to notice

Opening and shut the closet without

Reasons. Crossing heretic termites

In the plate, tiding in milky curry,

On top of Chinese young chow rice 

where’s shrimp dresses to kill

Shredded chicken facing each other 

Both palming glinted fork and knives, 

And spring onions, carrot bits 

Thrilling in greased saucepan 

On their way to esophagus gravehole

Senselessly disoriented mockery 

Until someone near at lampshade

Rattling paper pages, penciled

Etymologic anthropologist

Beatniks, nor impressionist’s artist

Dissecting painting of abstract 

Roses tucked in the corner wall  

That often, just blank colorless

When done, tossing on the fire

For perfection or no art at all

The ceiling blown and the room

At night, alone with swaying gentle

Of dreamcatcher in the dark

Glass window also blown apart, 

Revealing a world within a world

Where dinosaur feeding at the grass

 Beyond the warm mirage timeline

Shuttering, sheer dances, wrestled 

At poets unpredictable head.

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