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Poem

Fling open these gates of purgatory
In the sharp corner of a deserted hell to see
Behold, the office of the dull-eyed in an overloaded ark
Nearly concealed by a screen of dusty cobwebs
This soul perching on the cliff ledge
In mournful tears at merriment of grief
Never in danger of falling from sheer exhaustion
A pitiful victim of siren wailing unshaded tears
Mingled with compassionate grief of victims
A lullaby of tribute the still one can't bluff
As floods of mockery roll down scaled cheeks
Clogging down eyelids like an oasis of shame
Refusing partnership in the merchandise of wickedness
But foreseeing an approaching explosion of fake tears
Patriotic beasts in custody genuinely opens up
Lending out in all directions unequaled cries
Which rather heightened the unmarried thoughts
Of aging sapiens in their profession of pretense
And poisoned their delight in the un-haste of the kill
As their visual aids dilate nowhere to everywhere
Dart of a towel rolled hot mucus on quivering lips
With the skill a cat licks her young kittens
Alienating their minds to tracing smokes
From huts the aura of stewed beast emanate
Even though laid mute whom could have jolt
The corners of our mouths into a funny jolly grin
At night, these crickets sang melodies of mockery
During day, all manner of creeping, crawling things
Rustled forth into the hot baking sun
Aha! this grief that grips loose when huts breath smokes.

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