Tag: art
-
Rattler old
Once we had completed introductions He launched into a speech about Etruscan nuclear production He asked, shrewdly to his mind, what the centaurs, mischievous and wise Took for their lunch, and whether their type-crunched forms were not Totems praised when raised by tribes of riders in ancient days. Next, he came to what he saw…
-
He paints my backgrounds
She stares with loathing when I dare to say The direction in which I am going Eyes rolling my erection showing A collection of such asides I confide to my file I hide my portfolio in a hole outside For turning worms and Duncton’s holy moles to ogle At times it seems close to over…
-
Heat is spice
Straining daylight canine apt Balm for the insane Nailed palms fail holding onto given alms Through my cap Apollo’s lash’s scalding tips impale my brain Cutting through all dash Heat like spice and hunger and tiredness a great leveller Even mighty lions whose pelts men died to wear will age out of fierceness.
-
Ambitious pagans
Ancient Rome post-Domitian A sense of renewed mission The old wants prove rude: wealth, property, worldwide dominion. The bloodthirst of a fish chewer A fistula connecting his doings to Rome’s fiscal ruin. The centre cannot hold If in moonbeams tales are told, that molten O served omen The brittle middle whose part sum is Rome…
-
Cold served revenge of the first pagan
In tower-raising days In a hide decorated chamber Nimrod gazed into eternal flames Proclaimed Creator its unamiable presence. Ale-imbalanced constellations reduced to juke dancing. Tutors who either fluked then lied Or paid to pass having failed their exams Wither on branches the chanceless buds.