What's New in Music~Movies~Entertainment~Arts~Books~Poetry~Tech Gadgets



John Edward Marks (JEM)

catch my death

an English melody

travelling from heat to freezing cold

trans-this, sans-that, groan old.

Mealy-mouthed moaning means nothing to me,

people volunteer eat, shit, eat shit, they do,

they’re that stupid.

Put a gun in a man’s hands

this murderer wears a funny hat

no smiles, no this, no that

no men o’pause, just the bare necessities.

Freeze, moan, groan, be, alone

in this barely-mystic air

that is always, and forever, where

i see through bare air, miss everything.

One of Solz’s gulags, it’s a European thing,

every songbird says.

You get the wrong sign, get out of line,

a triangle or an equation

-b + or — sq root of b2–4ac/2b.

That’s just one way to pray

I have a guilt for my best friend,

keeping him warm, in his grave.

Nothing stops this inclement shivering inside,

by all means there’s worse to come,

sans teeth, sans fun, sans everyfuckingthing.

Recommended Posts

20 Juli 2020

unter dem weißen Schatten einer Birke gestochen—Sommer- hitze 57: 20 Juli 2020 | bottlecap About Haiku A Very Brief Art of Haiku Mondays & Thursdays

Read More »

Share this post with your friends

Share on facebook
Share on google
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin

© Chronicles Community Creations - dedicated to enriching lives spiritually, socially and economically.

Privacy Policy | Terms Of Service