#63 Salvage

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.


So I see

Y’all are obsessed with existence

But not enough to recognise that fickleness

flickering is the test of your abilities

Yet you claim it’s inconsistent o’clock

Hickory hickory toalk

Now the bread crumbles the same way the seconds fall


Oh how you stay mindful of spirits and gods

Your appeasement knows no bounds

You set up your embassies

And you claim them so proud

yet you fail to rationalise

The sort of sentiments you swear by

Are not the ones that fit into the ecosystems

Nature doesn’t cork the same way you think you know


So test yourself let yourself sit

Breathe in and out till you’re out of it

Your mediations are endeavours in selfishness

Oh drunken dose

Smile all you like

The wind still knows

How tough your skin is to stretch

It makes you belch

in closed quarters

The warts you hide know your nose dodders

Party to knowledge you wish to salvage

More to ravage

Helping hands help yourselves

Hide them on untouchable unreachable shelves

And if the sands swallow them whole

Don’t be afraid to start again

Just preach from an upturned bucket

Say you made up all of ‘em





One thought on “#63 Salvage

Leave a Reply