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


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.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s