Western Monks
unable to grasp a cup half-measured
the protagonist leaps
drilled to his heel a spring
is tethered, grass-hopped in agony
questioning his navel
ever-lasting cliffs heaped upon
the chief, where fingers stroke a tail
level-after-level patterns
emerge on his headdress
to adorn severed ashes with
a circular rite steaming from
a stake centered for cannibals
to lavish with a masked buffet
a titan with prophetic leisure
the turkish tzar,
proudly announcing
'we've conquered balkan terrain!'
ecclesiastes no longer applies here
erected was McDonalds drive-through
by farce lurks an anvil
dozing, flanked are soldiers
toys, manufactured to influence
cardinal foliage, entangled are
the tranquil and the boggled
who baffled, can't articulate
how full a tank can interlace
one in the same principle
Stop Sign Vanity
perched atop an aerial
the raven glares, sleek
insatiable, her hair flows to wait on
unsuspecting victims, who
weak prepare to climb
her silken river, half a pendulum
mirror frays, unwinding, ensnared
to a trap, respectful
of pedestrians
who tread a dainty tap
across a flattened zebra net
where accidents clash
with her mesmerising lesson, lapping
with the radio, abolished
to a history
of reticent minors, who
skip hand-in-hand, impoverished
aside from education
where they land an A
unless they march in cages
shackles of a prototype
where numbers
indicate danger
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