Quagmire

Mind rumpus; thoughts viscous; words pause Vicious vagueness vituperates Poesy prowls; never in poise! Demurs to egress with prowess Ticklish process it is, to pick One thick globule of slick morass That abounds our social precincts It’s like opt’ng the best of the worst Then ensues my usual address Showcasing to the world, this slush What a curse it’s to our progress In abstruse poetic phrases Read they, some with seriousness Some with a snigger, unimpressed All to forget in few minutes Thus my dénouement rests and rusts. Before I come to my senses Slips back the dirt into its source With a last laugh at my amiss With stolid stares, I remain stoic This story doesn’t end here, friends Again I stick my seeking hands Into the surrounding quagmire This time for fistfuls, with vengeance