If as simple as recording those things
occurring in words ringing clear - I’d be
veracious, true, literal, verifiable, correct
and faithful according to reality, but what
I believe happened actually is this case
elaborately placed before you is a free-
range misrepresentation claiming to be
my poetry;
when nails drive deep; there’s no sleep
in purgatory, its an awake state breaking
heads inelegantly - it isn’t for me. Those
who are dead wear masks hiding rictus
agonies too easily described
its sugary-sweet salesman’s tongued &
we are caught blind in one-way impasse
nursery-rhymed expectation-flavours in
which we live happily ever-after, amen
to all our friends - and so say all of us
© 13 November 2013, I. D. Carswell
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