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such prodegial self-indulgent loathing...

By
such prodegial self-indulgent loathing,
the kind that inspires the fence-faced picket protestors
to combat guerilla combat,
can be so considerably underestimated
& yet so meticulously perfected that
estimation becomes luck
in the practice of blatant allusion,
poised impatience lancinating with crimson abhorration
through the delicately deliberate stare
temporarily veiling the innocence of the eyesockets
which ignite their beam-shooting sensicalities
with such condescending hostility
that aloof stands all synonyms of friendliness;
a gaze constructed with such bitterness
that it would make weary the weatherman
for he would stumble over his projected facts
so fluidly that
no longer only the one who houses the gaze
thinks his information folly,
although it's hard to taint a meteorologist's confidence
when the one with ballgowns in one's closet
often finds it challenging to trip
the one whom is peregrinating their dress' floor flourishes
on the televised red carpet.
(& when there is a weather channel)





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connor said...
Aug. 17, 2008 at 5:38 am
Brilliant! This young woman will go very very far. This poem and the author have a special place in my heart. I am in love with both of them.
 
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