Your Poetry Dot Com - Squat

Array ( [sid] => 147161 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Squat [time] => 2009-01-01 13:22:20 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The gods squat, marking sacrosanct
Land, for a colossal second stand
Upon the fields for which I have never thanked
The gods, who shortly reprimand.

Ill-fashioned for the world at large, ignominy ensues
Their moves, loins rock when seismic shifts perturb
The gods and gods alone, who’d cruise
Along the beach if not for a frail suburb

Built on stilts. Of late, I’m god-acquisitive
When cyclones dance and baskets break,
And fetch new gods when deeds to give
Fracture ‘neath the clumsy wake

Of giants sporting greater girth
Than the pious few whose ventral side
Hammers pulse against the Earth
Between giant legs which might bestride

An iceberg…or a gentle floating barge,
A thing adamantine in course
Until a god thrusts the boat at large,
No intent behind the muscled force.

Ne’r ducked beneath an idling cloud,
But I’ve seen the gods trudge hunched,
Shrunken shoulders and heads bowed
Under assailants spatter-bunched,

Then tangle feet on vineyard West,
Infer how simple are the babes of day,
Offer at most what they ingest—
Their overweening chardonnay.

Vexed gods produce lightning bolts, shock
Roiling knuckles and greater hands.
Charges snag in the wrist, lock
In echoes ‘round their ring-bands,

Hijacked not unlike the glossy fields of wheat,
Where the gods part the plains and crouch,
And basking in their prairied seat,
I have come to know my kind to slouch.

The gods keep us thatched or flat,
Until roofs cave in to moth-eaten rug, their loss
Is all we want of gods, floormat
When gods emboss

Edifice, stone, and tusk;
Might they be reticent to a neighbor’s view.
The gods obey, draw dusk,
And ascend in curfew.

[comments] => 2 [counter] => 172 [topic] => 64 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Squat

Squat
Date: Thursday, 1st January 2009 @ 01:22:20 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: screwge

The gods squat, marking sacrosanct
Land, for a colossal second stand
Upon the fields for which I have never thanked
The gods, who shortly reprimand.

Ill-fashioned for the world at large, ignominy ensues
Their moves, loins rock when seismic shifts perturb
The gods and gods alone, who’d cruise
Along the beach if not for a frail suburb

Built on stilts. Of late, I’m god-acquisitive
When cyclones dance and baskets break,
And fetch new gods when deeds to give
Fracture ‘neath the clumsy wake

Of giants sporting greater girth
Than the pious few whose ventral side
Hammers pulse against the Earth
Between giant legs which might bestride

An iceberg…or a gentle floating barge,
A thing adamantine in course
Until a god thrusts the boat at large,
No intent behind the muscled force.

Ne’r ducked beneath an idling cloud,
But I’ve seen the gods trudge hunched,
Shrunken shoulders and heads bowed
Under assailants spatter-bunched,

Then tangle feet on vineyard West,
Infer how simple are the babes of day,
Offer at most what they ingest—
Their overweening chardonnay.

Vexed gods produce lightning bolts, shock
Roiling knuckles and greater hands.
Charges snag in the wrist, lock
In echoes ‘round their ring-bands,

Hijacked not unlike the glossy fields of wheat,
Where the gods part the plains and crouch,
And basking in their prairied seat,
I have come to know my kind to slouch.

The gods keep us thatched or flat,
Until roofs cave in to moth-eaten rug, their loss
Is all we want of gods, floormat
When gods emboss

Edifice, stone, and tusk;
Might they be reticent to a neighbor’s view.
The gods obey, draw dusk,
And ascend in curfew.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ screwge

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