Hear Hell Tread Toward The Tongue
Ya’ll ying-yangs yell yarns
While weary we wheeze…
What was what, weasel?
Say something? Sorry?
Start sterilizing smartly.
Stop stammering slickly.
“Soul seek!” Someone screams—
“Selection severs searching!”
Forever fearful
Fretting = falling for follies
Far from feather flying = feeble flailing.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Hear Hell Tread Toward The Tongue, which
was posted on Jul 28, 2011 by
Tad_Winslow.
This is a solo poem.
© 2011. All rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Word Play
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