antipoet's blog

yet another poem

under the setting saturday sun
we speak truth
and stand in solid sentence
can you sense our veracity?
our molten lava reality?
as we spin these rampant words
into vacant spaces
dripping rapid-fire syllables of eloquent syntax
into open mouths
and brazen faces

listen, as we sell our sins
to gods and masters and lovers
so walls of paper can burn
and gravel can hurt
or build concrete
and smashed locks can break fences
and stripped cyclone from solid steel
are hammers to shape us


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