turning things around

I sense what I will believe is a habit
related to an ancient root; a spell
that is designed to dangle a tempting treat
promised to the compliant puppet;
being obedient in sacrifice
to a foreign, and highly alien
pantheon mixed into a statue

minus much of a principle
resembling pleasure; but make no mistake
when coming to the nameplate
– it shall not be forgot – fresh blood begot.
The amnesia resides in this end.
To the host runs the summons
of emergency; javelins

here are all invisible;
nonetheless, offenders will feel
the thrust or the target reminded
of being naughty ought to suffer
the boggy bars and gleaming badge
of guilt; but what a surprise
they are today repulsed for verily

repulsive are they and cannot count
on certain victory; as meteor
and missile ricochet and our park picnic
where lasses in skirts boldly coax rusty
practice in flirtation arts
sighs in the arms of happy idleness,
free from disturbance at last

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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.
This entry was posted in free verse, pep talk, poetry, the way I feel about it, thoughts and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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