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Click hereWe three gaudy gaunts dig up the grave,
in button-down drab and garish lesions.
Mangled metaphor, only part we save.
Shilling pockets of poetic perversions
fund our stout pints and kidney pie.
We drably dine with our garish lesions.
"Arterial alliteration? In a pig's eye!"
One of us has gotten too educated.
Lord, I need my pints and kidney pie.
We know a bloody vein would be ill-fated,
but who dug up All the world's a stage?
One of us has gotten too educated.
Cracked like bones of a broken rib cage,
we shake dirt from the fractured simile
for half-shilling more than All the world's a stage.
Poems stitched together for the bourgeoisie.
Three gaudy gaunts, robbers of the grave,
we shake the dirt from a fractured simile.
No mangled metaphor for us to save.
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copyright d. dixon
halloween 2008
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I am sure you won't be offended when I say you give me the creeps! The queen of the macabre!
This poem has been selected for listing in Wednesday's New Poems Review.<br>
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A Monster. A beautiful monster. A monster one wants to look at again and again.
Yes, there's usually humor in my poetry. A lot of dark humor, like this one. Thanks for the comment and happy halloween!
You don't need me to tell you this is fantastic. The way you stitch together images like an autopsied corpse... you make it whole, you invite us to take a closer look but there's also a lot of humor - maybe I read everything you write wrong but I could swear there's this tongue-in-cheek aspect to much of it. I'm jealous.