Flare and smoke and a pointy copper shell,
Your own personal rocket on a staircase to hell
Rasputin’s revolver and it’s front loading muzzle
A dash of my ire and there goes this puzzle
A promptly squeezed trigger causes inanimate combustion
Claustrophobic mind opens up to the congestion
Like molten lava escaping from a lubricated vent
There’s nothing you can do then, nothing but repent
There always lies a way to put an end to this dissension
When you get too old and barely eke out a pension
And life becomes a bitch and the only way to dissolve her
Is a fucked up mind and this Rasputin’s revolver
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
2 comments:
I cant comment.. URGH
- aditi
but as i was trying to say.. its an interesting poem with some references that caught my eye
the part i liked best was the claustrophobic mind opening up to congestion
i typed this elaborate comment and it wont lemme post =(
boooo!!!
now u get a short crappy one
like the line : "Like molten lava escaping from a lubricated vent" .. pictured brains oozing out of the skull, not sure if thats what u were going for..
~~~
thepooj
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