As the disembodied words

Of long-dead poets hang in the air

Like the memory of my Grandad’s Christmas cigar,

Febrile imaginings’ shadows are forced

Into twisted dance as unseen draught mangles

The flames of thought’s candles,

Wringing grotesque, demonic caricatures

From the sometime holy light.


Tangential echoes converge like ripples

From acidic raindrops

Distorting the reflection of heaven

To a Picassoesque parody  of

An unspeakable scream stuck in the throat

Of murdered innocence like a sixpence

Until only moths emaerge

Confused by too many moons

Consumed in a single moment, rendered unreal.

3 Responses to “Manflu”

  1. This is fervent ardent passionate poetry…marvelously written!

  2. nice. fevered is a good words for it…quite vivid in imagery

  3. Oh I adore the word Picassoesque.. brilliant..fevery writing…

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