Thursday, August 3, 2017


Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole (this line from Marlowe)
bring him down from his high place
with his twisted face
tear down his gilded pedestal
slap him to the present
turn him to face the mirror
fill his pipe dreams with
actuality, verity, corporeality
smash them, shatter them
wake him from this monomaniacal mindset
Be him Humpty Dumpty
wake him from himself
split in two
words spewing from two faces
One a mask, one a child
one a demon running wild
eating from within
consumed and covered by mocking
self importance high and mighty
versing the ways of love
from a decrepit cauldron