A most boring poem

 

Venetian arches and blinds built quickly or made in a factory.
Eminently predestined for a neatness, everything is neat, orderly.
Love the world my spirits says, is this the holy spirit we’re all to have, what
Orderly confusion.  I would worship if I could what it meant but
Continuous commitment was in the cards, I will pretend it is this
Empire of signs I am committed to, until I can’t take it anymore.
Months of searching bring us thither.  I’m surprised she’s looking up
Electrons in the book.  Why do we create the youth we create? With
New projects, did they start a successful venture. My life’s an open book too.
Team work will make us sure.  We don’t buy into the brave creatures.
Eternity looks heavenly.  Will we always feel heavenly there, light as a feather?

Valuable insecurity.  Why did we feel insecure? Until something happens to make
Earned income look less virtuous or more.  Everyone has a different opinion.
Long-term investments they made.  Still the man is virtuous.  I don’t know what
Others think knowing only my own worries that I won’t know, so things seem sad.
Come what may, he borrows himself.  I try to write the most boring poem it is.
Investments look like reams of paper to me, files of tax records, but they are
The wheel of fortune, houses and businesses.  I don’t know what he meant.
Ability to manage resources? I don’t want to work today, perhaps it is a day of

Dialectic comparison and rest.  I was worried I couldn’t concentrate in the room.
Emulation of all that is beautiful in the world.  It’s not quite funny. Houdini
La Ruota, who gets to live with their young partner is just a toss of cards.
Loveliest of men, they play around with their young wives, but now we are older.
Alternation finds its way in pulleys and wheels, slot machines. Some kids liked.
Love kiddo, he says love yourself.  I do not know what love is tonight I just see
Undeserved success as the last revelation.  It does not need to be about sex now.
Competition rules out this person for that one; one needs to be this or that
A lover wouldn’t want to let another lover get away, but to cling with each other.

Reviews

[Chadvonswan]

You are so interesting. I love it. I love this. Write and publish a book of your prisitine poetic playful prose. . . .

[Laura Lynn]

ok chadvonswan

[Aunre]

It reads deep, it sounds deep; I swim, seeking the shallow end of this pool of words. Eventually the reflections of word-sounds change - as arms stroking in darkness - there it is... love, incredibly boring love. But, you will probably want to know what I thought of these words you've written (or perhaps not.) I confess, it's the pulleys and wheels of mind that, in this piece, squeek and clatter, waiting for the oil of inspiration to lubricate them into submission and silence; eternally seeking heaven in the well-oiled life. There you have it. One hundred surprised feathers compare the molecules of air as they descend to obscurity below. What's for supper?