W(or)ds (wit)h(in) (word)s, [poet]ry [locks the mean]ing.
Like (a) c(ode) [in]to the [wild] gene[tics of emotion],
thought is [not] t[here.]
[Consciousness kills] the m[us]e[.]
T[rue songs spew] forth [like a dream] buzz
[straight from the] caterpillar’s [hook]ah.
they come at us from unsafe [angles.]
Somew[here] in the riff-raff we get [the feel].
Like the tremor [of an orgasm],
a little bit of us [dies] on the page[.]
Scholars will [go back] and mush
the w[or]ds, squeeze out the p[u]l[p]
from the paper [and] re[live] our meal
as some un[digest]ible paste.
[But] they will not [know the taste,]
when the table is set [and] we [gorge]
[on the] steaming carc[ass.]
This post is in response to the dVerse open link night. A little outside of the theme I had meant for this blog, but then it is my blog and I make the rules. I hope you all enjoy the poem.