05-30-2024, 08:00 AM
(05-23-2024, 04:18 AM)crow Wrote: The Spider Butter Flies
When you bite yourself, what will you be?
The urge to “slice and taste the fat of me”
has been debated since there were debates.
Some died young and others in old age;
Some returned all gold and some were lazy.
Centuries of governments where monarchies
failed, led to a pattern of golden ages not a fan of repeating ages, and monarchies feels clunky
where the dyed and eyeless secrecy
was unveiled. We all need to eat
our guts and then like prey return not sure about eating my own guts, what would digest them
to formless biologic pools. To taste
ourselves, to die in rapture, to obtain
the consequence of urgency the state
that whips our naked flanks to purgatory:
death, rebirth, bitter, fatty, sweet.
As much was written on their angels’ feet.
The rhythm is nice. Sometimes though if it's too bouncy I lose track of what I'm reading, really like the last two lines as they are. Not sure if I can help with making myself understand what I've read, but it sounds good. Thanks for posting
This is part of my never-ending quest to endorse the English spondee and to write pretty, weird sci-fi sonnets.
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches