idleness ethic poetics, take 6

then came along while whiling innocently
as an innocent by a softly flowing bank,
watching birds bathe downy secrets,
the concrete image in a witch

caricature bearing brutality
in three-dee photography and bent
on spreading all over all saucers
born golden, banana boatloads

of butter hired to pour pure sour
all over a harmless party of gents
gazing at what gents naturally enjoy
gazing at, like chicken stuffed in soft

tacos leaking poultry drippings,
a simple cuisine whipped to expressly whet
the whistler’s balsam reed, agitate
the appetite and bring the moral smile

for a vessel otherwise woe-saddled
while on weary sojourn – you sanctimonious,
hypocritical, fuckheads and bitches
– hey you never spoke or fought for me,

oh no one ever did, and so I gaze oh gaze
do I so hard at every pretty piece
I can and I ain’t hurting no body – so
go fuck yourselves, ye worse than all

put-together puritans and their ethics
insipid and evil as they were and are
though less insipid and evil than thee
for thou art they multiplied mountainous.

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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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