The Gnashing of the Brain Stem

 

 

Even my e mails are poetry

Electrical fillips that tingle the brain

And you will never ascertain

The leonine logic of my disdain

 

There is in every heart a stain

Of blood so blue its freezing cold

You know the story it’s been told

How sadness, evil, grows enfolds

 

The mediocre people polled

The mendacity, prized, enthroned

The wisest men pilloried, stoned

The sages true quietly groaned

 

The last line’s trite you telephoned

The sad descent of this a poem

Not premeditated, phlegm

But visceral pangs from my brain stem

 

Copyright, David Gottfried, 2013

 

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