Jon Doe

We Speak - Poem by Jon Doe

“Degradation, I sow, twine”… inn’s all
While I do (of prink fraise on)
Fill a stint; sweltered repertoire!
To Crested my of malted yore
And bellied to cast me ah…
So, fraying me; to saint and cauterize
Ten lilacs swayed, and sprayed on red
Acrylic shades of trembling eyes

“Listed among my orchards”… form foliage
Perforated! (Clay and she has been in)
We’ve Bored above, too prepared of
Taunted the air and tongue of entirety, to braze plighted kinship and sun…
Crazed, so the weakling, but shedding sins of doe has as we fall from
The trees that fall from Fairing Tribulation to bend meanings swell

Contradicted in presuming definition, Coroneted with the peerage of dead
To be read from the barony that’s bled epiphany detest incredulous merriment

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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 27, 2010

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