Fluorescents Of The Skies Poem by David N. Munene

I wallow in the mystery of history and worry
Of what need do deeds that piss capture a story
And make a shake that ripples the lake of jolly?
Fall off to the bluff of deceit with failure without receipt,
I commend and tend to offend me not
Lest in pretense of offence, affluence of past tense relives in me to clot
Ta oh hot bright ball dangling precariously on the walls of the canvas above
For having let the grass in the past pass, consequently having wrong revolve
In conspiracy with the cold white circle, your successor,
To chase away what today has for a predecessor.