Under All, The Truth (A Poem)
Posted by keith on February 24th, 2010
A thick trail of clotted paint,
Eased across the slick
Covers well.
From a distance.
A trowel of baby-smooth plaster
Masking walls of spin.
Where once asunder
Now rent-free.
Smears of light and clever shading;
Filth washed off by jets.
Unwanted expelled:
This way please!
A double coat of shining varnish
Glosses the shit;
Its colonic ripples
Trace elegant contours.
Fitted, made-up and tonsured,
The old guard speaks
Through ad-lib free prompt
And time delay
(Just in case).
Is this a metaphor I see before me?
Steel, words or deeds
I take my blade and cut.
The truth bleeds out.
Keith Farnish, February 23, 2010.