Poem By Paul Brookes
Retracing, the paper it flows, words encoded wicked.
exponentially a threatening avalanche sways; a hefty pile.
already the day's shorten seen through Autumn skies.
meanderings welcome sparks of fruition which die, falling like leaves,
such sentimentality makes me nauseous, still a maudlin tear trickles tentatively.
after glows of images burns retinal
note after note after note, a trail of garbage,
damned music atonal but bland leads to blindness
raw it roars or creaks on ravens croaking hoarse
effervescent it bubbles but boils away dead pan
affected affectations abound.
mediocre at best but then who needs popularity?
so in your despair dance clown dance.