Tag: imagery
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Non-stop Spinning Top
Got more endings than return of the king My rhymes exceed in radiance your bling I have more plants than Swamp Thing I have more keys than janitor’s keyrings I know a girl whose name should be Kettering Amount of Ket she gets in K makes you sway, room starts spin Like 103.8, always been…
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The Swan Hunt
The fetch: that life must end The fence o’er which gunmen bend The birds toward which their gunshot tends The fetch, the fetch, the fetch to end. Swans turned loose are roundly shot Leaded bodies by hounds are got, to masters brought. Great cunt of Manhattan, glass ziggurats fastness of sun priest Squeezing out malcontents…
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Fire In A Comic Book Shop
Bearing ursinity with dignity, the great bear Baloo “I wanna be like you oo oo ooh” Wrenches him from his jungle nook Rage like man’s red flower he lashes out with power, lands with sound of closing book Frenzied Japanese report that a giant bear and a giant mercreature are batting on the coast Ursa…
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The Loot Of Jericho Has Been Devoted
He slumps like leaning in, some secret he’ll never tell Shot between the eyes, with weight he fell, will he won’t he William Tell. Caesar sees sounds, checking behind curtains believing Gauls will be found Volarian arts and volar holes, Vangarian guards and potem toles, vision’s sound. Box beneath my bed folded Babylonian garment Through…
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Titanomechanophilia
Down a trainless station waiting bacon tooled up Tonight’s big bust up, everything fussing, men fucked up to get brave Big cutters wired up to packs, serrated blades like fern fronds Gnashing teeth with Hope diamond strength, like a drip rapper eating you alive, Something to combat Their terrifying ferrousity, those iron brutes. Cadre of…
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Future is Thick
Cruel gangs bisect the turf Skinahans lot in the Beacon South Quarter Scartel everything between Aungier Street and the Liberty Stone Liberated from a Church Normandy named, sitting before boss’ throne A symbol to which fealty is offered Young lads swearing they have no skin in the game Cheffed up, found eyeless, no skin hung…
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Weeping at the Cenotaph, bitter as the cud
Looking out from the highest window Gaunt regiment of flayed trees girdling her lonely tower Purging stones, sins that cure, lonely dismal sinecure Sign it all away Walls her grandfather raised marked the barony Jericho’s opposite, high walls and many years since sounding trumpets Amidst the crowd yet apart from the whole, she haunts the…