Iota- A Poem

Tophat's picture

Kingpins knocked down by the bowling ball,
Dead men shooting from the trees.

How can we claim to see love at all,
when we can't feel the breeze?

I don't understand the live wire's dance.
But then, neither did Mark.

Walt Disney stumbling drunk down the corridor,
thinking up his latest theme-park.

Who cares when God will see his next Cabaret?
I murdered King Louis III.

When washing sheets just doesn't give you kicks,
try at least to remember the word.

Rack-room dollar bills burning down the house,
warm embers rolling off the roof.

A celtic scottish man writing to a louse,
a team player nowhere near aloof.

I can't breathe with all this air surrounding me,
smothering my creativity.

I cannot wonder why I live to die to serve,
I'm dead already now,

so why'd the union swerve?


cherrylover's picture


darling lovly poem