Mark Lloyd
my brother wants to
repeat history
i shudder to this malignant idea
but i let him
go back
perhaps he can learn
much better
now that he is
too old
to know the tricks
mark Lloyd is going to be
Fink
and there will be loud banging
and more failings
but his dad cannot hear them
as usual the silent screams
are more found in the
screen
and it is always away from
the hell of
any home
fake home
where mother is queen and dad is king
and where everyone
are but subjects
and numb
ers.
i've seen Fink move away
his face is square
but there are crooked lines
everywhere
tiny volcanoes on his face
which my
erupt soon
and cause
the flow of magma
in the comfort room
i warned his mom
but her face is a highway without any
interiors
for the meantime
there are no cars
colliding
soon, i expect something bizarre
it is Fink markig Lloyd
bloody on the street
holding a gun
filling the city with smoke.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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