Beasts. Metal Fangs sucking face
Wild skillful confines, monsters
craving
Praying aloud, sirens full the air
Land of serpents and smooth rare
delight
We are here, parody worthy
Illiterate Graffiti
The snake slowly slithers.
Beasts arise, a toy soldier
stammers on by
Cruel spent sperm
Crying faces
Deflect
The worms defecate.
I feed these worms as
A form of self parody
therapy
to escape this
Wicked World of
Shadow words and
broken promises
Release the monsters
within your head
into the night
to feed upon
the souls
The youth are getting stoned
stripping themselves naked and
feasting upon the pleasures
of life, orgies
While others cough up
worms
like blood
spewing meaningless fables
for you to believe
If you care
In the end it comes down to
who can tell the better lie
O great creator of words
Grant us one more hour to
Perform our act
and perfect these lines
The priests and politicians are doubly divine
and lying
We laugh, we cry
as the worms soon die
Journeying more into this
American Parody
We’re searching for meaning
at the end of each sentence
searching for something
that’s standing right beside us
(I touched her face
and she smiled)
We have assembled within this murder
mystery theater
To disseminate this jest of life
and escape the scathing reviews
of the streets
The barns are burning
The windows locked
and only one of us remains to jest
and dance and fool us
with a divine mockery
of words
The Muse ignites imaginations
(When the true Jester's lyrics
Spreads across the entire nation
a 1000 Clowns arrive
in the land)
Where are the laughs
We were promised
Where is the Mime
The New Mime
(talking on the grapevine)
About the Creator
Joe King
"Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities." - Jim Morrison
These poems are from my book An American Parody, which is a tribute to the writings and poetry of Jim Morrison.
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