Little 'El'

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    Little 'El'

    "El' has no honor (above his own poor nature)
    a small case of bellicose, still looking for a stronger
    dose...he belittles those around him since he's sooo
    strong; albeit my reach has his nose bent a furlong, his
    arms bruised and battered, his teeth flat and clattered,
    his eyes raccooned, his stomach ballooned, his shoulder's
    fairly quaking, while his little knees are shaking. With
    a pound to his skull top, his phallanges will be cracked
    up, and in between his spine will be sprung like a hippopotamus
    breaking, rung after rung, down a ladder to the nadir
    of his elixir.
    O 'El' you are so keen, an unnatural dream, you abase
    your minute morals, with your insipid quarrels; no sting
    from their points, since youze got nothing left to contuse, you go after everyone as a bully, with no sense of direction.
    Cool man menthol your Newports are like you sport, a genetic anomaly (not reflected on your family), but you are sooo
    kool you're not, most women see that you're only
    in it for self, you don't even have a pelf.

    Your grip is like an effete snob, ham-handed and hobnobbed.
    You can't relate much since players don't have
    the right stuff!


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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Rama’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The relevance of pain... 0
    Little 'El' 0
    V. 0
    On The Great Lakes... 0
    Mstaken identity 0
    "Rant" 1
    "Betty" A lyrical portrait 1
    "Knowing" Not... 1