ManicDDaily

At Cross Purposes

My points, to you, seem hollow,
faux arguments, foe arguments,
spent shells of zero caliber–
fibber blanks that might nonetheless
mess up all that you hold dear
(fear mainly, rage–of course, stuff–
toughness). It’s rough how this world,
swirled in a rifling that won’t be aimed,
lames us, though both want it to behave,
be saved. You imagine your self
pure self – there at the ready,
steady-handed–while I’m not sure
your bullet will hit its mark,
parking its lead instead in my
bystander’s heart, or another–
mother, brother, neighbor, son–
one of our own, ’cause you and me–
we–for all our lingo–stock, cocked,
locked–ram into a single barrel,
peril, sorrow, recoil–

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Here’s a double-barreled sort of poem (draft) responding both to the dVerse Poets Pub Prompt hosted by the far-ranging Fred Rutherford relating to writing in foreign languages, and to the Real Toads prompt hosted by the wonderful Hedgewitch (Joy Anne Jones) on chained rhyme. Both have written super interesting articles with great original poems. Check them out.

(The foreign language here, for me, is gun talk. Chained rhyme is a form where the last word of each line rhymes with the first word of the next. Sort of, in my case.)