L. Kinney - Two Poem

Classical Splatterpost

Relative antiquity.
Starbust inanimate
joyfully in the third degree.

All over the walls,
a child covering the halls
with a matchbook crayon.

Red in color,
black in sight,
just like a fiend
creating an agent
who roams only at night

to carry more of the curtain
and alarming the sound
on free verse and antiquity.

It's only relative, you see,
in the eyes of what used to be
a smiling understanding.
Contorted and distorted now
into classical splatterpost.

Tears will not run for you
when lies are what you hand out.
Destruction for power
in a manipulated population.

If that's what the prize is
then smoke is what you dance with.



B Side Track

Too tired
for the game.
The unscrupulous
rat race
plastered in the masses.
Give me a rest
from the crime.

But no,
I found more,
this hatred
cheap envy
hidden behind smiles
and inside the eyes
of drowning liars.

These strange hearts
beat bad, a bitter song,
an infection
that cries out
for more glamour
more vanity
to last for a life time.

The swindle still rings
in my ears
with the beginning underfoot,
confusing the connections
waiting and turning,
while yearning
for an end.

Unsuitable players
bounce life in a game.
Blames one thing for another,
replacing the light
consuming commercialism
to fabricate what was once
actual reality.

I am not blind
to side wind on the B side.
I listen
to the opinions

of life
while waiting for truth
to come alive.



L. Kinney is a metrical and free verse poet, writing in diversity and classical distance.