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A Revolting Use For Words..

A Revolting Use For Words…..

You can’t kick the dog anymore,
he’s scoffed at your very last shoe.
The wise old Cukoos saw it coming,
off they went to seek pastures new.

A purist changes workmen’s clothes,
I guess they’ve shed that oily skin.
Weary are they of the same old oaths,
they’ve no time left for political spin.

Ballrooms are full of hobnailed dancers,
young men of war take a day off killing,
Hi, like a burl round the floor of chancres,
or are your morals transcendently unwilling.

See us in the backseats have moved a tad,
right up where false gods sat to view.
I laugh I know, the feelings clearly mad,
stupendous inept leaders didn’t have a clue.

The streets still echo of the chaos to follow,
devils come in blue and blood red garbs.
Words like the workers, redundant, hollow,
but we must set keen an ear for talk of barbs.

Does the past follow the future I hear you cry,
the answers only there for educated fools.
Our minds will never again square or circle pi,
to go forward, we’ll use an instinctive tool.

See me and the blind ones ask the question,
what good are we without common sense.
An answer born of our anxious frustration,
that above life some coveted pound and pence.

How do we now act, is it off with their heads,
traipse on through life like an historical tapestry.
Or shall pride be taken from our gory death beds,
break at last all chains from our damnable history.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
This is not a rant, but a dream....
Editing stage: 


and by and large bloody well written.

This rhyming scheme and elusive meter cries out to me for a more consistent meter. Believe me it would take a lot of work. Consider that the poem is worth it.

I've wiped off the blood and healed most of the breaks and bruises and am almost ready to run another meter workshop. Perhaps you would consider joining?

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

I'll get to work right away, i think this will be about poem number seven i'm working on at the moment. Thanks again for your time and your comments. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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