Coronation

by Kyle Flemmer

We were giants,
            a melody of bones.
Don’t push the river,
            God favors prudence.
Nobody prays,
            nothing comes of nothing.
You touch my being,
            my sun-dried reason.
Ancient acorn,
            trees of new knowledge.
Beware pitfalls,
            the poisoned dates.
Breaking bored,
            Gameboy life.
Where’s the beef?
            in beatitude.
Deep Throat,
            swallow the money.
Clumsy striptease,
            tips for tits.
Broken rubber,
            do you like eggs?
Necromantic dynasty,
            going nowhere.
Pledge your life,
            leaves on gutter waves.
Sonic periphery,
            ignorance is piss.
Gargoyle of Dis,
            baptize that bitch.
Cops fucking,
            fuckfuckfuckfuckfucking.
Did you hear me?
            I used the C word.
See the sea,
            saltine cracker soup.
I hurt,
            do you hurt too?
Genome patent,
            gut the hare.
Sacrificial Solomon,
            Gomorrah rising.
We snatched comets,
            boughs fishing in the stream.
Man is the bomb
            is the end of the man.
Freemason swagger,
            you'll never understand.
Jazz has lied!
            those freeform cobblers.
Manhattan taxicab,
            Turkish toilets.
Lewd behavior,
            social tree-climber.
Bohemian banker,
            green-thumb pickpocket.
A curtain of bees,
            foghorn in the deep.
Fingers dance the fret-board,
            the grim fandango.
Print in pen,
            truth sticks like shit.
Sudoku champ,
            fill in the               .
Say SCUBA,
            it sounds funny.
Sensuous syllables,
            spreading syphilis.
Assembly line thought shapes,
            fifteen minute line breaks.
A copy of a copy of a copy of a copy,
            rubber-stamp master.
Hegemonic hustlers,
            backwash appeal.
Ersatz perfume,
            the glands of a civet.
Ms. Piggy fetishism,
            kosher pickles.
Ritual masturbation,
            sacred o! o! ooooohhmmmmmm…
In loving memory,
            Dorito hangover.
Cavities galore,
            oil stains in potholes.
Dry well-wisher,
            Tuscan snowshoe.
There’s a new sheriff:
            NO CELLPHONE ALLUSIONS.
Goblets are passé,
            obviously.
A trumpet sounds,
            the banana-loaf has risen.
Somebody write this down,
            posterity demands.

Where’s my rule-book?

 

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Dorito Hangover is "Out of Print" from The Blasted Tree Store.


KYLE FLEMMER

Founder, Editor in Chief, Author


Dorito Hangover by Kyle Flemmer is a Blasted Tree original collection of poetry.

ISBN [Digital]: 978-0-9939300-5-8

Cover Design by Kyle Flemmer - Cover Image by Marcin Rybarczyk

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