A Glazed Sauce... Poem by GRANT FRASER

I like it,
lick it for the time being,

I eat it
because it yours,

or force a response,

off course!
it's all coarse,

the habit of human exceptions,

deceptive pillar
twirling round,

eyeball along the death hall,

dead prayer,

you want me to share
it with you?

words with big black
suckers on their feet,

stuck and debilitating,

it's your choice,

from the great big savage
menu,

namely - natures big snivelling
knife, scintillating,

I mean downfall,

is what it's all about!