Bored to Tears (poem)

silence , loud breaks the mind.

forgiven saints blessed numbness.

the round words spread germs.

rain washes the crusty found.



the long and forgotten poet

sits queitly in chaos.

and languid corpses stroll

by the concrete basilicas.



dirty, the stain washes

over clean curtain rods,

whipping bare baccurat

games for lucre



and he gazes on blank

screens, crying out

bitter sausage grinders.

burnt and tossed in the

chamberpot, filled

with excremental lilies.



the field, it dies and

lost the void temperment

sound flys.

away to cranium crock pottery

barns, in the heat

of winters dream.