Post Stream-of-Consciousness Poetry

[Herr Abubu]

My mind is not rapid,
Most would say it is vapid;
I write poorly,
Some point out surely;
I understanding nothing,
To my mind it counts as something;
I have no strength,
People want me to get bent;
Then from a dream I woke up,
Realized Desert Fox I was not;
Laughed ha-ha-ha,
Went gaily on with my day tra-la-la

[CordedWhelp]

(Sheds a tear while sipping Cognac in a lavender bath-robe)

[hisn]

Givin` it a go-

lyre`s in tune,
leers into..you
melody halfed (in two),
rowed not-far, sullen boat
soaked up past brim
..as an unseen visicle
round ilk `to a T`
quieted lawn
a chord's felt
resigned in C sharp
sullen upside-down vase
opposite the sun rays' lauding,
lace to spread one's self upon

Should lull into sleep about now,
had enough florescent-like screen exposure to last the eons

[CordedWhelp]

Fog is where I used to live
but what is this thing i struggle with
what are these years
in a moments notice i go from age to age
and here i am in an unfamiliar flesh
i try to explain myself
but they dont know up from down
and yet they are deemed philosophers of this rock
fuck trying to open up to other folk

[wvwvw]

I dig,
you dig,
We dig,
he dig,
they dig..

It is not a a beautiful poem but it’s very deep.