deepundergroundpoetry.com

Flatland THERAPY

 I.  
Thirty one birds sit on a line  
Two towers stand tall  
Now you see it, now you don't!  
 
I'm no rider on a white horse here  
Riding out from the clouds  
Or who knows where!  
Be realistic, nothing special here.  
 
Let go of the toxic strains tendrilling wild  
Never fucking said or implied anything, so stop expecting!  
Seems you need some medical stimulation, three choices:  
Electro, pills or therapy. Six more drops and all's ok.  
 
Oh, she's spitting mad.  
Got no more energy for wooing and cooing high-maintenance  
Prefer low-budget alternatives.  
She calls me the reincarnated king of whirlpools.  
 
 
II.  
Want to lie low. Spent ten years in bed  
After a drug-induced major nervous breakdown  
Felt so downhearted and alone, asked my pal  
Who knew EXACTLY what it meant, straight way!  
 
Sitting at a bar counter, having a hand-rolled ciggie  
And a quart of milk stout, I learn happiness is elusive.  
Never felt more alone....and cold. So disillusioning.  
And I don't wanna be bothered.  
 
I told a complete stranger without a face or identity my innermost secrets  
That's not very clever. But, it's no biggie.  
I don't seek your sympathy, but I reveal  
I feel culpable, because I'm almost cheating on my girl.  
 
My first conquest was Porra, a great lover  
But unbearably and madly jealous!  
A semi olive-skinned Spaniard, with morning spirit  
That's beauty - the kind that attracts me.  
 
Then, Olga was in her twilight, yet felt in the game of life  
A couple more weeks of recup and we see what rewards  
She had a heart attack, but not yet out of commission  
Thanks to the gods for the invention of the electric blanket!  
 
Will she understand if she catches me out?  
Don't fear your underhand exploits, psychologist placates  
Can't hide my unbearable lust for olive creatures  
With my IQ over 150, I am a wicked, discerning german connoisseur.  
 
A mad scientist in a lab, trying to fix my broken dreams
Silently muttering odd spatterings of poetry to himself  
Impregnated a young, nubile maid  
It's my near-best act, left me with a tiny tot.  
 
The unconditional love of a small child and the special bond  
and love you feel for them  
and the responsibility you have towards them,  
is very important.  
 
 
III.  
Finally. Tedious but strangely therapeutic task completed  
Now I stand back and admire the fruits of my labour.  
 
Got a ridiculously full day today, believe it  
Must get busy now, must FLY!  
Well said, but heart knowledge it should be  
Rather than head knowledge.
Written by Bloomingspider
Published
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