Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Zee mon stairs
est everywheres;
dahling I'm scared...

Current creedoaths entertain,
pipe organ pomp and fearful refrain.
We cripples cope, sans canes.

Injured crawlers buried in ruts,
workin for uncle desperate,
teaming in knots-n-rotted guts.

Avoid eye contact.
Do not talk back.
Until the fall and crack.

Kings horses and men,
can't fix the end again.
Oh bring it on! And Amen!

love the images, meter & rhyme in this

Avoid eye contact.
Do not talk back.
Until the fall and crack.

Yeah. Sad but true.

a fine piece of writing, hest!

we now live in a world that is more unpredictable than most of grew up in....the things we sort of relied on to prevent panic have disappeared like the money in all the minor players bank accounts....
not that I see us as minor, that's how the bernie madoffs see us....
something's gotta give....the question that hangs in your poem to me, is what will happen when the levee breaks.....enjoyed the rhyme and wordplay, hest.

Thank you Doreen and Saw for reading me.
I too, wonder what will happen when it blows, but I don't get a sense that it will be bad, in fact my senses say it will be good.
A release of pent up, obsolete air. Ahhhhh now that'll feel good!
(It may smell weird though).
H

dahling I'm scared... , interesting words...!

Nice! Language is so amusing! Nice touch!