Operation clam

Maybe I’m not who I say am.

Maybe I’m too prised shut.

Im certainly not the man

More likened to a clam.

Plenty of fish to test my lack of faith.

Indirect lines

Caught in the net-

Delivering me to an Ill designed fate.

Mate,

Tag me with an aphrodisiac.

Swimming in the theatre room

Hang up my ten phalanges

To ward off the inner crowd.

Grains of sand obscure my funny elbow.

Morose in all affairs

Wander afar from the nudists-

They emulate all my common fears.

They are my foes.

Grains of sand.

A Stormy clap of hands.

Alone in this operation,

The agenda is to make sure I get by on an innuendo.

Fear to be me-

To let the tears show up my negativity.

Look for the silver lining….

Give up?

Be happy or die trying.

This is a message in a bottle

Fish are borderline crying.

In yer face

Illiterate

Poet ,

writer ,

Creativist of my right palm.

Read in between the lines

I’m the maker of my own divine crime.

* My mind has gone blank. I’m struggling to write. A person close to me is in surgery. I’m waiting .Write to recover. Part of the ‘be happy or die trying’ series

Posted on 2018-10-18, in POETRY-FREESTYLE/IN YER FACE/EXPERIMENTAL and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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