Drimoct (poem)

Posted by ractrose on 13 Jul 2018 in Art, Poems

It’s always argued on the basis of the extrous

Strouphes three or four times on the consciousness, then exits

The whole surrender into pestiour leads to this defaulting mood

I mean the yoyunk sort of pestiour, that comes from lack of roots

Then the smart ones hustle in, and it’s all bunkita, bunkita

And the naysayer in the group is bound to throw bituna

With a mocktrind at the core that can’t be solved

Bituna, what I’m saying, also segatif, a snob’s game

As you know…and who can listen while they fogatise and agotise?

What the times call for, is a simple pelcrot

Not a platitude, but, you understand…the clopert sort

A pithy summing up everyone recognizes qosse

We should crevlog as many of these as seem worth keeping

But, don’t bother with the latest motrick

I mean, drimoct, drimoct, or do you think?

Unboat, then, be on board or don’t

Drimoct