Bugger 2 them all

After late life literary rebirth
an increase in vocabulary dexterity
acquiring contextual awareness…
supplemented by fluidity of thought

my skeleton thrust forth with Viking vigour
marauding the English coast
rampaging the reeks of havoc
raping, pillaging vernacular

a representation to the behind me life
reminder of, a not so missed past
a Trojan war laid bare, no breast plate of armour
for a Homer’s soldier, protection to my text

an arrowed skewering to the Achilles
heeling my burden
as the closet door falls from its hinges
fleshless cadaver strew about

exposing naked expletives
succulent meat prose stewing in bile
seasoned with pepperings of epithet
salted by language from yesterdays life

vulgarity so freely used
containment resides in the impossible
a Blenheim of stately wordmanship
each escapee, testament to a normality

a crown proudly worn by the many
exposing the deluded ridiculers
questing superiority in avenues of pomposity
bugger 2 them all.

Stephen Miles about Stephen Miles. I’m 53 diagnosed dyslexic at 47, 47 years avoiding literary word, I’ve discovering spell check as a best friend. My subterranean mental deficiency proved an unfounded, exploding to the surface as a wordsmiths lava. Flowing the external walls of a poetic volcano. So yes, I now write poems. Poems about the life, life around me. Things I see, hear, perceive unjust. Basically, shooting my mouth off.