|
Flyweight
|
IP:
"Sticks and Stones"
Footed in jovial contempt,
he’s the playground’s marionette…
Carving out his face in the sand
with a backhand plastered on his neck!
He’s mastered neglect;
Muttering ‘sticks and stones’
under his heavy breath as
he clones himself and twists the stick
around his neck!
The tune resembles a speck
of hope for the rope/noose
that rests loosely before his treble clef
The sandbox is his canvas
But abstract went out in the 80’s
He’s debating the pictograph hating
The fact that…
His art is blown away by kids and their antics.
‘Georgie Porgie!!’ Rang from the hills niche!
Beneath a barrage of rocks and
enough small talk to smash teeth!
George is weakened, his battered
brain can only take so much,
before buoyant laughter becomes
whimpers under the blotted sun!
The shadows concuss as the pack
moves in for the kill!
So neurotic to the point
of psychotic delusion; he’s lost,
tossing his stick to the sandbox
with anointed bones and bloodstained rocks!
And from the woods
A pair of eyes watch.
As she drags a stick through
the flooded marsh, looking for…
Some type of picture to accompany her words.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but a thousand poems will never hurt me.
And as Metropolis roads corrode,
my destiny’s written in the sands of time and stone.”
Let there be justice.
__________________
get attached to a rolling stone and you're libel to get crushed..
|