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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A Dismantled Poet And here I will put agony Just leave it there on the shelf And maybe I can ignore it Let it gather dust in so many blankets That maybe I won’t feel it And over here this is where I will put beauty Though it should be close by and near to agony Because I can never seem to capture enough of it Still The agony of beauty My word that’s poetry ! Now over there I think that is where I will put love In a playful cauldron Right under the feet of agony and beauty Toss in suffering and joy Throw in the odd tear and smile And surround the pot in a wallpaper Of dieing and blossoming flowers Perhaps I’ll give the whole mess a stir Chuck in some sex And season with need and want Bake for hours upon hours before done Oh and here, here is where I will put God Useless bearded old git that he is Never once has he answered my prayers Or if he did, it came attached to some cosmic joke Of time, destiny and fate Religion ? Nah; throw that out for the trash, don’t need that Now where shall I put me ? Should I stand myself a little bronze figurine Right atop a mirror top table Perfect positioning From there I would be able to look at me and ponder me Endlessly Oh… and here is the little blue glass bottle Where I shall put my dreams Along with their wishes and a little pinch of love Stolen from its cauldron Which is now boiling hot And right over there in that corner over there somewhere Is where I will keep anger and hate Along with their indignation out of sight And once in a while bring them out for a dusting off But mostly with knuckles and animate verbs And where oh where shall I put compassion And her brother mercy Should I stash them in the same corner as hate Or place them in the cauldron of love Or maybe I should hand it to God Useless bearded old git that he is Or hide it beneath the blankets of agony Or write it in my praise of beauty What will it be Should I toss into the piles of greed And let gluttony feed on its weakness Always it seems it does Or should I keep it on my mirror tabletop So at least I can see it occasionally Maybe I should take all these things And put them in a dictionary Then I could thesaurus them all To write poetry Or maybe its just better that I just bundle the whole lot Into a cat tailed ragged messes knotty knot And just call the whole thing Life
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