In the begining there was there was light...
In the form of a desk lamp, enabling me to write in the night time.A feather and a ink pot.The industrial revolution revolutionised it into a ball point.Now I write with ease.Freedom of speech to express my fantasys.When I'm called by protocal to go vocal.I summon my troops in groups like parts of speech.Nouns on the flanks.Adjectives on the rears.Tryptronic as i switch into gear and let my verbs proceed without fear.Action. A blood bath of fallen alphabets.Taken to the recycle bin by the rubber utensil.Homonyms creating confusion like homophones mixed with maloproprism.My words are living creatures untouched by spoonerism.Because they clear...Clear as water is through unstained glass.Antonym to the codeine in my flask.Imagine William Shakespeare saluting like Hitler, wouldn't you scream?I know I would..it would look ridiculous..with his tight pants and Hilters facial hair.No disrespect..just causing metaphors.Planting seeds in your imagination.A herbal plantion, of planting herbs, Tautology with adverbs..Word war 1, where its 13 vs 13 equaling 26 like the number of alphabets.One on one where there is no like, like a similie, beef between U n G.Seperation of T and V with a hyphen...contradicting the naming of the idiot box.We left clueless, as I've paid Cable, but there's no channel to enable, me to digest my pay. Looking like a word starting with X, left astray playing the xylophone..alone..with a femur bone.My jargon is complex like a finite verb with a thousand phrases but one meaning.Verbosity to a point where it's meaningless.But isn't war in the end..meaningless..fallen soldiers..dying for what? The next episode...Word War2?
Number3
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Word War 1
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just different
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COMMENTS
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tretre says: Awesome poem.Makes me wonder about your mind set. As a fellow poet. Great peom....Keep that pen movin. |
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tretre says: poem :) |
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Number3 says: Hehe thanks a lot |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Number3
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Sweet silent sedativeMisty breath. Chapped lips.Wire mesh.Wringed limbs.Shattered jaws.Plucked roots.Iron claws.Coarsely sooth.Throats serrated.Knees debilitated.Caps harnessed. Skin tone tarnished. Diminished tethering away.Hacked.Smacked.Soon to be stacked. Another statistic.Of the ballistic. Catastrophic. Ill minded diabetic.Harvesting insulin.Dripping scarlet.From the chin.Adams apple.Eves apple.Toddlers apple.Apple juice. Nectar dripping.Spectacle began shimmering. Twinkling. Buckets colleting to the brim.Satisfaction. Relinquish. Sweet tastey flesh. Tip of the tongue.Sensation named death. |
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