CRACK THE DEALER
It doesn’t take much
to break my heart
just like the rhomboid ceases
to frustrate the circle
which becomes but one
of the ovals by
classification
and a user becomes
a dealer as the squad cars
draw up and use the front
of the vehicle to
close the door on me.
I run for hiding but lone
sailors have not gone for
all the times of all
but for some time instead
when no one knows
who is about to work out
the regument and foolish
type-faced monsters yield to
my strength of hazard
and leave.
Safe again I wonder
down the slopes of disdain
to the dealer on the bar
where he holds the satin whip
that makes us all
a-shiver with tidings of distrust
but nonetheless
it is rumoured that no one knows
how to make do with one.
“I’ll take six!”
TOO LONELY TO MAKE SENSE - AGELESS POETRY - DADA 