The wastrel wastes Trill overfeeding his caged birds,
His enraged words in his voice shrill,
Reflect the fact that he’s mentally ill.
Not least because he keeps entrapped,
Birds, whose wings once freely flapped,
Yet another species on whom we humans have crapped.
Like a hollowed tree deprived of its nutrition: he’s sapped,
Wearily applauding inanity on which his eyes are clapped,
Vague, blurred shapes flit within his brain,
They allude to the resources that remain untapped.
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
No comments:
Post a Comment