The Flat Earth Society.
I think: The globe spins and Carved images shimmer The mind eyes colour And rhythmic roads beat Paths through waterfalling words Sentence structures to scrape sky I architect my creation. He said: I don't understand poems. World flat lines Words smear on paper
I am the broadcaster I fracture ideas into language Are you the receiver With crackling signals waiting to be read Distorted symbols: missive to analyse Purported poems: message to synthesise Thoughts are made cryptic Cipher locked without keys My radio heart keeps transmitting Not knowing if you are tuned in
This is dirty process Mind excreting verses Slogans thrown in anger Daubed on wall of website Misconstrued by stranger Wishing poet rather Stage a hunger strike or Just accept in silence Life is nothing more than Solitary confinement
This blank page Knows already that I have not known This blank page Has already on it something else This blank page Knows already I'm not Scribed upon This blank page Has already on it Poetry My blank page Waits so ready for my Own poet