Aye thai chi, its common seekness
I seek thy brothers weakness,
I smell a mothers sickness,
fall on down, cherry headless.
Fall on
down
down,
down
onto oxygen lovers
and
buttery knickers.
Wait, hanging around in clusters
in my punk,
I bleed the wretched
and simmer them in fetid
pools of bacon rind
the cheap lardy kind.
Stagger over
mucas
boils,
grease
rancid dances
for oily kiss catchers.
The parade weakens
hook eyed by disease.
This is the stop,
this is
the
full
stop.
Sitahtlla forever...
@Steven Francis poem 2011
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
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