PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Gaijin, you sour, superfluous

poorly aging, decanted old man:

pathos is the only effect you can

confidently exploit and command;

as you stagger across the surface of asphalt.

You are your shriveled soul's pwn debilitating cult.

With his ever tumbling stone, Sisyphus

is not as silly your penchant

for tossing that vulcanized ball

against an ever more agile wall.

For such percussive resistance, you are never quite prepared

as the lolling backhands of ungeared clocks

measure away your life's remaining span

(to this task, most dedicated and trenchant).

The shallowness of your verbal bluffs

becomes incredibly tedious

in the almost infinitely numerous

set of your mechanized repititions,

constructed on false premises and imprecisions

of your elaborate prevarication.

You shall never have the vision, much less the inspiration,

that must precede even the briefiest glimpse or visitation

of provocative beauty---shirtless and longhaired,

clad in baggy, tan cargos and (beneath frayed tattered cuffs)

heavily grass-stained, but casually comfortable, white socks.