On the smell of white Elephant bones
A Bee sits next to an Owl
And between them, hypocrisy.
Disemboweled vowels unravelled vows
Brimming with the vanity of medals
(But not those of laureates)
And white handles that jerk at door knobs for heroines that love to loathe it.
Astute students of attitudes
With their acumens of shrewdness.
This primitive intellectual love
Of chisseled smiles scraped to the skin
Where a morose whiteness resides.
Along with fugue
And corrective contradictions
That rip at the flesh of poems
That asked for hugs
And got rewritten for plastic aesthetics
The poetry of it all.
A forgotten yesteryear
An enormus elephant graveyard.
Within its tombs are the broken wings and crumbling feathers of Angels that seized to exist.
But bestial creatures in deserts live on
Eating at their own bitter hearts.
Ant infested blood clots.
And the hickeys we left on our aortas.
All thats left is the red of it all.
And it isnt blushing
Its an avalanche of tears.