Sleepy Suburbs

split

Transcendence of lies
that form bodies--
     so long, so beautiful.
Disillusioned truths
intangible--
     to him, to here.

This mask is here, now
what can you say
dribbling the mind.
That faucets definitions
of rumored silhouettes
standing amongst
shadowy fields
Fruiting deception
ignorantly eaten
in the currents
of living rooms
universalized around television
and scrapes of conversation
hollow of majesty
and significance
In the kings eye.
But devoid of any Merriam worth,
of any true lies.
Guard dog,
watch man, watch,
but turn your back
and feel the cold embrace
that fickles limbs
tossed in beds,
so campy,
brittle with stories
of waking hours
and waking showers
that compound good will,
and destroy theirs.
Unpopular measures
in sleepy suburbs
that whisper of conspiracy
or neutrality and empirical
experience, deteriorating
beer heavy bellies
into cold, shoveling hands
picking guitars and
up cigarette butts that feel
hot like writing paper
pressed for dangerous
stories of foreign adventures
feigning reality and
choking the billiards
into someone else's pockets.
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Comments
2 Responses to “Sleepy Suburbs”
  1. I love your writing! Could you check out mine? I need some constructive criticism. It called Hostages on my blog thesleepybooknerd.wordpress.com
    It would be much appreciated. ☺

  2. Ziggy Mang says:

    Reblogged this on ANTHOLOGY OF A POLTROON and commented:

    My favorite poem

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