I thought there were casques
that debonairs
brought to legionnaires
and said “This is worth a centurion”.
The Family of Drivel
laughed as their uproarious
Laughter quakes
were dribbled like Wilson balls
and only the Italians said blame Filipinos
for mistrust and misfortune
as they play
Chess, not Checkers
to circumvent a path
meant for Redemption
and my Mother
has been my same Mother for
23 lifetimes,
now.
I used to think years emptied pockets into the rich.
Sold out, born with silver spins and golden grills
Only to bite the spoon and wear the teeth
with prosperous
rags-to-riches in-lays
where I thought
a chain snatched
was a chain taken back
and instead
I rather lick ice cream cones
than announce
I’ve come to be inspired again
After tireless creative bursts
that led me to an era
week-to-week
and I still have no golden eggs in my basket
and the bunny of wrath
seems immortal to
my memory now.
and I quake with disability
Living-venomous-beast
that eats seed and quakes
protein
to secure
what litter funding I could think of
for an Uber.
Whatever that means,
because Nietzsche didn’t teach me
Nuthin’ to know
I am the debonair of Matriarchy
to allow
some Old Man
to fall in love with me,
this many times around the bend
of Living & Death.
petrichor - archive 