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.
Compensations for philosophy
Is in the currency of sneers
Have you seen how they decorate their monasteries
And tend the gardens with shears?
If it all looks tip top
There could be no questions of sick roots
Grass is more green
When it’s fuelled
They line up the askers and the seekers of salivateion
Like pigs in a sty
Alll doused in patience
If they behave they might get what they desire
The troughs are filled with kibble and daily doses of shit
The holy water ain’t so pure
If you check what the make up of it is
This liberations the torches they light
The peace they control
Their hegemonic constitution
Can only survive on the suppression of evolution
Unclog your noses
See just how filthy these monks are
They stink
They divert the blame
Say it is yer chairs
If you just believe and it play it by their book
You might win the league
That’s a joke
Let it burn. This is the only way to purify
Cauterize the wound if you can
It has grown vile
Yup the stench of decay permeates every pore. Brilliantly expressed !
Brilliant. In a class of its own VK
On Tue, 2 Jun 2020 at 1:18 AM, Owl in a Coffee Cup wrote:
> Arnav Sibal posted: ” 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. Compensations for philosophy ” >