Untitled

Untitled

A Poem by Wilyem Clark

My weirding, wilding arrow
Pierces a dozen hearts a day,
But all are immune;
They have renounced passion
For quotidian qualms.
The escalators I ride
Generate static selecticity--
Gather ye charges while ye may--
That's the only thrill life confers on me.
People aren't outgoing these days,
They only go out to go back in,
Home to their spiffy spiral shells
With cuttlefish gates and piranha mindsets;
Everyone, everything is against them
They say,
So let them gnash their whitened teeth
And waggle their fins in paranoid terror . . .
I don't care,
May they wither and perish,
Trapped within their spiral shells.

© 2016 Wilyem Clark


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Added on October 17, 2016
Last Updated on October 17, 2016

Author

Wilyem Clark
Wilyem Clark

Washington, DC



About
I've been writing poems since my teens (now in my 60s) and prose since the 1990s. It's been hard finding decent forums online--the free websites too often suffer sudden deaths. My "published" works ar.. more..

Writing