Login
|
Join PoetrySoup
Home
Submit Poems
Login
Sign Up
Member Home
My Poems
My Quotes
My Profile & Settings
My Inboxes
My Outboxes
Soup Mail
Contest Results/Status
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Quotes
Short Stories
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Resources
Syllable Counter
Anthology
Grammar Check
Greeting Card Maker
Classifieds
Member Area
Member Home
My Profile and Settings
My Poems
My Quotes
My Short Stories
My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder
Soup Social
Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us
Member Poems
Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Random
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread
Member Poets
Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest
Famous Poems
Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100
Famous Poets
Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War
Poetry Resources
Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter
Email Poem
Your IP Address: 18.219.117.108
Your Email Address:
Required
Email Address Not Valid.
To Email Address:
Email Address Not Valid.
Required
Subject
Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Even the Lazy Lizard Even the lazy lizard knows when not to beg, when not to emerge, from behind the hungry black rock of another dying hand, hopelessly clutching the mysteries of another sit-down, in the serene electric darkness; all of us tangled into a morphed city of outrage and fear, ensconced with a multitude of luminescent lost eyes, these sad and despairing souls that found ironic lucidity upon the shriveled faces of unspoken impulses, singularly positioned, as with all flora and fauna, inside the elevated cages of human degeneration. Even the lazy lizard knows when to creep and lunge when mere minutes mobilize to paralyze the go- systems, of squirming spasms under neon determinations, enveloped like dead moth-worms, spinning insanely, caught inside the smelly dank-eaten vomit climes, with lonely cemeteries looking for new souls to fill the holes. Now we can see the living rescues, the dying kiss-off’s, designed to dodge the fastest of the sky dirigibles, witless designs which know nothing about the dry tears in old glass ashtrays, from the bowels of old Bullocks in 1942 Los Angeles, and the hand-coffins with red, lipstick-marked cigarette butts, left there by aroused, perfumed women wearing white girdles; middle-aged spinsters seeking pearled mirrors inside the shadowy upstairs rooms amongst the statuary, and other obscene lotions, laces and leather goods, designed to conceal, expose, and hog-tie secret lovers. Even the lazy lizard knows when to lunge into the marsh fire, the incredible sea of burning, with dripping petals of licking flames, scorching nothing, and then everything, as with a woman’s thoughts, broadcasting boldly, as the only voices in the Savoy firmament, happy decompressions, with electric mornings of a rainy pain. I lie flat on my bed and I see the lost dead people, heaving their stilted silent voices behind a thousand closed doors, locked in with grief-stricken resignations next to silent clocks, that are, by transcendent instinct, deaf to complaints and alibis, told by hatless compassionate killers with pleated pillows poised to smother the floor lamps, and erase the rusty love-making episodes you and I had together, once upon a time, all those unzipped decades ago. Thanks for the larks, young lady, indeed. Maybe if the crusty clock has anything nautical to say about this tragic comedy, then, well, let it rant. I am done. Done as anything resembling a life lived. Done with this wasted begging and lunging in the dark. Done with writing this forgettable homage to all lazy lizards.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required