To begin with:
I fluttered this afternoon over your dismay,
you were spreading ashes,
and decadently ordering your own decay,
aloud to the masses,
and flinging verse like lollipops at a parade,
trumpeting trashes,
and selling your lines like tickets in an arcade,
should we buy passes?

Oh yes, I can screech, my voice a train car shrill,
careening hexes!
You haven’t terrified me and you never will,
show me your flexes!
Despise and berate the whole of humanity ill,
of both the sexes,
and violate harmonies dancing over your hill,
impersonate vexes!

They don’t allow your death, the arms of the Fates!
Nor will you see mine!
You bear your wrath like cargo ships and their crates,
or like the Divine.
In my never-ending solace to see you irate,
(it is when you shine)
I curse you with ever-last hell for to contemplate,
all my sordid rhymes.

You see me slither inside your shadow’s encumbrance,
I rear my head,
are you watching, regal, sitting atop your indulgence,
my eager tread?
Regardless of treacherous language and all of your parlance,
we’ll still be fed.
The Muse will continue proving his worth and his guidance,
until we’re both dead!

56 thoughts on “a scathing ballad

  1. Waste not
    your talent on
    jealous jesters
    childish gestures
    or child molesters.


  2. Be not a harsh critic as only the poet knows the true meaning of any poem. The beauty comes when we have the guts to share it with the world. The poet does not ask for your acceptance, just your willingness to listen and then allows the reader to find whatever value or meaning it can find for themselves. On this side and yours.

  3. I fluttered this afternoon over your dismay,you were spreading ashes,and decadently ordering your own decay – Fantastic!

  4. The poem doesn’t suck it’s Tuesday morning cold it’s spring it’s cold that sucks. I have witnessed a love affair foreplay maybe with due respect you two should meet each other love you both.

      1. I was being glib about your dialogue w/Eston like exchanged machine gun fire. That your words and strength could evoke that comet of words.

  5. I would never keep any carnage away from you. I wish it upon you! Your the queen jester in your own court!

    1. I will call down every fright from the gods upon your wretched head, like a burning witch, you will remember me in your nightmares and if it is a jester-cackle, it will haunt you all the more.

      1. I am the flesh of the fright of the gods, and I’ll burn you at the stake like a witch. Send me your cackles, I would love to trap them in a mason jar for every time I need to laugh at imbecility!

              1. Believe it or not, you’re not the only entity in existence in this world and certainly not in mine.

                  1. I agree but I’d love to drag you out of Fantasyland into the real world and shove a reality down your throat.

                    1. It sure as hell won’t be seeing yours, but your world IS Hell’s daylight.

  6. The rhymes literally sting my eyes, prompting me to gouge my eyes out of my sockets and liquify them in rendering vat.

      1. Continue until your heart’s content! That won’t remedy your lackluster contumelies, nor will it appease your pubescent sense of vindication!

        1. Oh, you have only seen the beginning. My soul is fucking ravaged by the poetry this will spur beneath my pores. Keep your incessant jester-carnage dialogue away from me!

  7. This is by far the weakest, most attenuated attempt at literary assault I’ve ever read… just because you have a radiant face and majestic imagination doesn’t mean you should write down every thought that enters your ingenious head.

      1. You call that feculent prattle a poem? I call that a cheerleader’s break-up note to a boyfriend!

          1. You know what, you’re right, I’ll be the adult here and desist with any further invectives…because you’re probably still IN HIGH SCHOOL!

              1. Correct, for once, I graduated junior high straight to college. Bring out your cherry bomb pom poms for some more juvenile clatter!

                1. I see, that is your play, some freak, some childhood prodigy ripped from tattered headlines, who can speak nicely for a while, but hasn’t the faintest clue what to do with an actual woman. In the case that you are actually being truthful, that is.

                  1. You call yourself a woman? I thought you were a fire-breathing witch, get your self-designations straight if you want to appear intelligent. You’re embarrassing yourself.

                    1. I am a thousand different things that you could never and will never conceive of, however many lonely nights you try and make the attempt! You are just a lost little boy trying to play with the big kids.

                    2. Oh,and I suppose you’re currently holding a symposium for philosophers and fellow poets in your backyard tent. I’m the child? Did you not just threaten me with the wrath of deities?

                    3. I discovered the cure for you in Merriam-Webster, it’s the definition of indifference.

                    4. Someone had to do it…and why would I waste my time blowing up your electronic baubles?

                    5. Finally, you gained some clarity! Yes, I LOVE the sight of my own chaotic unpleasantry.Everyone does, especially you, apparently.

Love you, too

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