20 Comments

Ton of Tongue

The metal numbering on the needles directed a spoon of oil.

A red line on the side of time reversed the inevitable.

The pinches on the bald strings of the violent no longer sing.

The roof of the darts marked elliptic disfigurement.

On the cold IS A the brown, seated but not crowned.

Jewelry displayed but not found.

Exoskeletons trample the vacant rays of mud.

I will tell you, it hurt so bad.

Did it serve a nerve or was my present already had?

The cat is not the bag.

~ That Dude Eddie~

Please don’t forget to share this. :)

Peace and Love.

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20 comments on “Ton of Tongue

  1. love the ending, thanks for sharing!

  2. I don’t *like* “Ton of Tongue”; I love it.

  3. A right riddle of a poem! I am adding, subtracting, comparing, remembering…a very thought-provoking write, Eddie!

  4. Sick poem man. Really enjoyed.
    As per ;)

  5. Very interesting in a confusing, captivating kinda way. :)

  6. That was an excellent poem man, keep doing what you’re doing.

  7. I liked the phrases you used in this poem, especially the last one. I think that the last line is a really good play on words. :-) Very thought-provoking.

  8. I’m thinking tattoo? Very painful sounding! Vivid. k.

  9. quite dark poem, i liked it

  10. It did serve a nerve. It kept me thinking deeply about life. Cute one!

  11. your rhythm is akin to the Beats. nice.

  12. Very visceral; reminiscent of a Burrow’s cut-up

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