Buttered White Bread
The tone of an argument always remains arrogant.
Shot through the arrow, but the water remains stagnant.
With every tell of the lion's tail,
the lioness rises to compete with the planet.
A roar forewarns those whom never learn.
This knowledge lit aflame and left to burn.
The fruit blackens, charred beyond recognition.
Bitter sugar left to bleed, there be spoiled jam to discern.
Gilded jars be stocked in every shop,
and the clerks are blamed for the taste
but never the canner's crop.
Now, no one eats this morning
and it's the buyer's fault.
The finger pointing never stops.
One with grandiose ideas becomes the diplomat,
just as the rat rides upon the tiger's back.
Seeking to inspire, they become another liar.
There is always a river to jump
and another to point a finger at.
To find a slogan is to butter the bread
and try anything to get ahead.
They keep the jelly till the expired by date;
to pitch it in the trash would be a waste of spread.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon Became a Modern Poetaster
PoetryPoetry is a dance of words, a guise of flesh, and a reprise of thought. The myths of old are forgotten on modern tongues. Such adventurous spirits seek new vessels - fresh words to don and call their own. We shall write them home, you and I. Let the...
