#11 – As Is What Was

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


There’s a brilliance

It cannot be sanitised

Or sanctified – it simply is

Like itty bitty wham-dumb


The dial tone sings that it’s seven past three

They never meant for locks to match any keys


The apple orchard sinks in its sweet teeth

They can’t eat but they’ll chew on the fat

Nicotine and nobody will weep more than their fair share

The bitters in the glass’ll take care of it


All bastards lay deep in graves they cannot keep

So maybe they’ll be destined

For martyrdom and play keeps


And if the lantern doth drip away and burn a village down

Eyes shall turn like the paws shall prowl


Mastery-tapestry they’ll wave it as a flag

Clasp you round  your throat till

You feel pride and you bgrag


Savagery is only for the refined to be honest

And as you do as you will

You can lay waste to the forest


Butcher witted-shitted words till they think that you’re a king

And praise you in the taverns

You desire maidens will come and sing

And bring itty bitty whatever ‘cause you’re a crass little gem

Who thinks you got the right lining

But you’re tearing syllabic metrics at the hem


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