trawling for suckers

neighborly-speaking, try
being advised; be aware,
how a germ of a word can come
floating, flitting, like a mantis
dressed as a moth only to spread
a slow erosion – an erosion

so slow few know or care to bother
to do the research to see
so to know a stance is atop
a slow erosion one silvery tongue
cast one fateful summer eve, bait
dipped in a poetic timbre,

invoking magazine concepts
of home, as in, if you find your home
you’ll never ever leave; so being poetic
and bent in a bit of a fatigue,
those words were given welcome
as all but the most obviously

predatory are given
welcome, but it’s like all parties
have grown fast uncomfortable
with sipping the same cups of punch
and nibbling bland cookies, waiting for
another to be the first to speak a truth

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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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