Thoughts of a Single Man


Slither The Pen - Poem by Thoughts of a Single Man

Within the mind of the poet
there is cobra waiting to strike the page
his teeth spewing poisoners black venom
and his spirit is reamed thoroughly by his pen
I am the snake
bratty and catty
who slithers upon the flaming surface
weaving safe to rise as I leave my mark
as hemmed ink spills from my heart
my eyes clown in a drowning swim
and my smile beams white and wide
with the inherent safety of a beckoning grin
concealing the intent invented from within
for you fail to truly see the angle of my teeth
for they are not an antiquation
for they tingle in anticipation of the sweet stroke
the undeniable fever in the ensuing strike
marking down the anger held captive
in the maw of gaping violence
yet crisp with melodic pain and lavish hope
I stoke the page again with the minions of my mind
like the army of devouring ants charging the hill
until the words strike the margins
and then blends into its aligning portion
the script writer and myth designer
behold the insidious fiend that hissed in the grass
hidden in plain sight behind the looking glass
awaiting silently for you to pass
and my venom alas is left behind
and it will spark the hearts man
and expand the mental vines
and wake the eyes of the blind
there is no notion that can chieftain me
for I mingle in the mental playground
while others remain flattened and prone
stiff and one dimensional like a musical tone
as I resound in the four corners the mind
as I move in my travel between the lines
slithering over the empty scrolls
as if the words could burn me
walking on hot coals as if my skin is rotting
yet constantly plotting to penetrate you
the barrage of barbs or the tally of taunts
haunt me not for your jibes cannot prick me
forgone be forwarded none can penetrate this hide
for I touch and erupt all of the scribble
look into my eyes what do you see
the reelection in the specter of my soul
encrypted in these eyes as I hypnotize
my pain, my woes, my joy, my know
there in the sum of an unmarketable amount
of the distinguished prod of the probing prose
and so they glow in the release of the flow
I am the cobra king
hear me hiss at my prey
for you will bow fatal to me this day
under the words that I levy you
a small minute tile is imprinted without tool
a piece of me that remains with you
always inhaled and like sobering gas
some try to block to me
but your soul is still met
and your skin is still is wet
for the inky tats of my love is the size of a sickness
that flows through your veins with a quickness
an unseen clean purging rush
that even the tenderness lips cannot hush
a forceful boon as my gripping fangs emerge
for wry trades touch but a shoulder
but I am the boulder that cannot be crushed
the rattler shaking the tail when you here it
you know that it is on the attack
as your eyes wait for the sweet swing of my pen
from right to left and every where in between
the words consume me like a plague
and the power jabs the page as it stabs the phrase
and fries the clay of the twisters signature
written in the deepest depths of the sovereign sand
it commits to you not a work of art
but the inking thinking pools of the black blood
produced from the dripping tooth
extracted within a work of the heart
know now
that my fire is deep and hot as sin itself
it could burn down a forest in it's trickle
and lava would be aware and kneel in my presence
for the words come from an endless source
and endless force that bombards my mind
controls my hand and puppets me to write again
I cannot stop it for it is my nature
so join me in mind and taste this forbidden fruit
and be lost in the maze of my words
with the coiled spring that stings of the seeing serpent
marooned on the island of the witching write
so beware and take care
as your gaze in entrenched
by the unsuspecting reading eye
for the poet has found the marking pen once again
and the serpent shall slither sweet
in the words that slide from the speaking mouth
knocking on your cerebral door
invading the cortex of your cerebral core
as I weave my wandering way
through the fields of the minds on man
forevermore

Thoughts of a Single Man 2012 tm


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 30, 2012



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