03-13-2020, 10:02 AM
revised
He Who prevaricates Is Lost
I read Prufrock again today
and as always it had its sway
with me, while I drank my tea
my emerald green and tasteless tea.
Such libations I rarely notice
as they blend with the
blandness of my life.
Yes I lost my wife
and now I am absent hate and strife.
I think it sat too well with me
I try to Let It Be.
I am no longer a tempest
in a teapot tossed
no longer at a loss.
Though I feel unfulfilled
(maybe as I always will)
this emptiness now suits me.
I have no desire to fill this hole
in fact I feel much more complete
being bereft of that burning coal.
A Post Modern man am I
with large belly and skinny thigh.
I constantly feel as though I'm high
though I haven't toked a thing.
The mark is there from my wedding ring
from a life tattooed
having lived a life in servitude.
Love has whittled me to a point
a singularity of thought
as though enlivened by a drought.
I've no need of a way out
though rains do not fall.
In fact no moisture here at all
for plants to grow.
My landscape sere
I have nothing left to fear.
Thus in my solitude I sit
minding it not a bit
in this desert of lifelessness
I find myself content.
©2020 erthona
original
I read Prufrock again today
I read Prufrock again today
and as always it had its sway
with me, while I drank my tea
my emerald green and tasteless tea.
Such libations I rarely notice
as they blend with the bland-
ness of my Milquetoast life.
Did you hear I lost my wife?
It sat well I think with me
so much for that and my tea.
I dangle my finger in the sea
and I try to Let It Be
no longer a tempest
in a teapot tossed
no longer at a loss.
Though I feel unfulfilled
and maybe I always will
this emptiness now suits me.
I have no desire to fill this hole
in fact I feel much more whole
being bereft of that burning coal.
A Post Modern man am I
with large belly and skinny thigh.
I constantly feel as though I'm high
though I haven't toked a thing.
The scar is there from my wedding ring
for a life tattooed
from a life of servitude.
Still I am no more a prude
nor less and no pride do I have;
love has whittled me to a point
a singularity of thought
as though enlivened by a drought.
I've no need of a way out
though rains do not fall.
In fact no moisture here at all
for plants to grow and they do not.
My landscape sere
and I have nothing left to fear.
Thus in my solitude I sit
minding it, not a bit
in this desert of lifelessness
I find myself content.
©2020 erthona
He Who prevaricates Is Lost
I read Prufrock again today
and as always it had its sway
with me, while I drank my tea
my emerald green and tasteless tea.
Such libations I rarely notice
as they blend with the
blandness of my life.
Yes I lost my wife
and now I am absent hate and strife.
I think it sat too well with me
I try to Let It Be.
I am no longer a tempest
in a teapot tossed
no longer at a loss.
Though I feel unfulfilled
(maybe as I always will)
this emptiness now suits me.
I have no desire to fill this hole
in fact I feel much more complete
being bereft of that burning coal.
A Post Modern man am I
with large belly and skinny thigh.
I constantly feel as though I'm high
though I haven't toked a thing.
The mark is there from my wedding ring
from a life tattooed
having lived a life in servitude.
Love has whittled me to a point
a singularity of thought
as though enlivened by a drought.
I've no need of a way out
though rains do not fall.
In fact no moisture here at all
for plants to grow.
My landscape sere
I have nothing left to fear.
Thus in my solitude I sit
minding it not a bit
in this desert of lifelessness
I find myself content.
©2020 erthona
original
I read Prufrock again today
I read Prufrock again today
and as always it had its sway
with me, while I drank my tea
my emerald green and tasteless tea.
Such libations I rarely notice
as they blend with the bland-
ness of my Milquetoast life.
Did you hear I lost my wife?
It sat well I think with me
so much for that and my tea.
I dangle my finger in the sea
and I try to Let It Be
no longer a tempest
in a teapot tossed
no longer at a loss.
Though I feel unfulfilled
and maybe I always will
this emptiness now suits me.
I have no desire to fill this hole
in fact I feel much more whole
being bereft of that burning coal.
A Post Modern man am I
with large belly and skinny thigh.
I constantly feel as though I'm high
though I haven't toked a thing.
The scar is there from my wedding ring
for a life tattooed
from a life of servitude.
Still I am no more a prude
nor less and no pride do I have;
love has whittled me to a point
a singularity of thought
as though enlivened by a drought.
I've no need of a way out
though rains do not fall.
In fact no moisture here at all
for plants to grow and they do not.
My landscape sere
and I have nothing left to fear.
Thus in my solitude I sit
minding it, not a bit
in this desert of lifelessness
I find myself content.
©2020 erthona
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.