blessed are the lame

Every line that begins with a trochaic foot
ends up in a rainforest reeking of ancient ruins,
where we can’t find anyone to listen to our gibberish
besides the spirits of cannibalistic priests.
They will always be happy to accept us as members of the family,
and even when the night comes,
we shall not be able to garrote them one by one
to avoid their disgusting insinuations.

Gods of clairvoyance, uniform and melody
can be easily distracted by mercurial interjections;
blindfolded they stumble indefinitely
between Sodom and Gomorrah, back and forth;
while gaping they see only your genitals
and latest tax report.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s