2014 #262

The deviant mask stares straight at the turf,
but the guilty can’t find unvarnished guilt,
like what are breathing cells

to do when assaulted with
unwanted images – but there goes a saucy
falsehood, going by assault,

knowing incrimination
will be skirted and the condemned will wear
the seared brand as long as the sentence

runs through an eternal clover grove
thick in cool dew, and even as the lethal
injection takes effect, a day of browsing

aisles and fitting into private
apparel strongly resists
taking the rewind route

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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