Poem -
I AM NOT TERRIFIC
Sleep driven in a perfect way that slumbers the most
when I dust off my awakenings, with a feather and an absent god
dredging jewels from an obstinate grin in a barrel of monkeys
too dreaming to be actually dreamers.
more monkey
and Theme.
II
Oh the sandwiches that burn, united under thunderous-
claps of cheese and abandon!
the pure remote.
where our actual charms bark at the moon with discrete drivel
and tabernacles yawn at the best god
in your pocket
assuming you give
a damn.
III
I am not terrific.
but i kiss
things
until I'm actually
Here.
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Comments
Good morning August,
It is always a delight to read your poetry. For me (and I could be wrong) but this poem speaks of being true to ones self, in a world brimming with minds that are distracted by false dreams. Just my take of course. I love the structure to this piece and as ever your metaphors are beautifully poetic
Gwen x
YES.