Ivan Donn Carswell


iVestment/i Poem by Ivan Donn Carswell


A fête of decayed verse
engages these indigenes
of disgrace; there is no
sweet meat or bread fresh
on their plates but rubric
praise that ‘if you succour
me then I will grace you
measures of the same


Though ego games and
make-believe at best it
still suggests the worst
is yet to come – embeds
their blinded heads
in disinvested bums
© 7 October 2009, I. D. Carswell

Submitted: Sunday, October 25, 2009
Edited: Friday, November 6, 2009

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