The Staggering Marionette

If my poems had lips they would hide in your pout like secret honey
A whispered cache of melody dripping away in a sea of awkward noise

The Ocean

Twenty thousand leagues rage
Barely under your stare
I have drowned your fucking sailors
And have plundered their wares

Gone are your mariner rhymes
And famous literary nets
I harbor pools of sorrow
And vast seas of regret