Poems of a Young Man: “A Roman Catcall”

(or:  A Message to the Disco-Elite to Kiss My Poetic Ass)

.

Ceremoniously

the social eunuch rises from the lotus

to ring the gong-

summoning the faithful

to that final dance.

Nameless, faceless, the disco combo

strikes up the first thrumming tremble

of thudding dissonance.

It’s a din that passes for music

but that is in fact

ritual.

Decadent shadows turned

on the features of the featureless crowd,

who began to twitch and jerk

and writhe and stumble,

kicking and stamping with a fiendish relish

that passed for dance-

composed in dreams

compressed into frenzy and unleashed

upon an expectant world

 

eagerly awaiting

its own denouement.

.

(9- 12- 79)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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About KPKeelan

Fool, Philosopher, Lover & Dreamer, Benign TROUBLEMAKER, King and Jester of KPKworld, an online portal to visual and linguistic mystery, befuddlement and delight.
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