Concerto for blunt instrument

An irregular heartbeat from d.o. to you. Not like a daily kos, more like a sometime sloth. Fast relief from the symptoms of blogarrhea and predicated on the understanding that the world is not a stage for our actions, rather it is a living organism upon which we depend for our existence.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Not one more poem about yourself

Dear poets in a dream
why don't you speak to me
as you copy words into what
some may call po-ems, your
ideas of reference assuredly
penetrated eyes and ears
massaged the ego lovingly
into the automatic reflex
expelling yet another piece
all about your self
as you believe, it to be.
The media doesn't talk to thee
assigned to perception management
disregarding your humanity
it rambles on you endlessly
walking hand-in-hand distantly
in the dusk upon the commons.
Another idea is to strip off
all the garments and throw
ourselves at the feet of a muse
to be instruments of a higher
purpose seeking common good
were it not for reflex reference
this might be understood.

                   - d.o.


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