Dealer Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb
Dealer
Twist your spinning tongue
you auctioneer of fate.
Feed your happy pills
and magic potions
at the orifice of minds emotions.
Hells fantasies, unleashed,
not pleased, diseased,
deluded by intrusions
of all pleasures, ever
measured in full capacity.
Mental mixer needing nothing
sell your wares to those
who choose, misplaced rewards
are smiling faces.
Masks of all things
mind effaces.
Waf
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5/17/2024 6:24:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
fabulous poem, Sally! filled with vim and vinegar, restrained and sophisticated aggression: " the orifice of minds emotions." You're good with this angry stuff, not so typical of your charming poetic self….
Thanks for your comment, Julia. Always appreciated. Sally.