Troubled Times

Time's Decline

The time was late,
the hour near.
Yet still she stood
in line so queer.

The hour late,
the time was near.
Yet stood she still
in line so queer.

The hour late,
the time was near.
Still stood she yet
in line so queer.

The hour late,
the time was near.
Still yet she stood.
in line so queer.

The time was late,
the hour near.
Yet still she stood
in line so queer.

Smelly Dog

How's That Dog Smell?

Old Extra Pound could snuff the coffied ground
and carry on because his nose was sound!
And even when hot upon the still-hot trail,
Pound managed to constrain his wagging tail!
He was a good dog, after all, as we found!

But how does he smell? Terrible! Just terrible.

Fascist Leanings

Sacramental Is-lamb for Extra Pound?

Against each monotheism inveighed Old Extra Pound,
though he held a secret feeling for the one that came around
mouthing anti-Jewish wishes
that were shared, so unselfish-ish,
such that soon as thick as thieves they'd both abound!

Says Who?

A Foisted Poem

"A toast!" Pound toasted, raising the toasted
toast extra high, as if it were a roast,
or a sin,
once again,
as if such were whereof up high to boast.

The Big Why

The Big Why

Extra Pound wondered once aloud, "Why
do my friends in this world all go by
bearing animal names
barely suiting their frames?
If I can't find out why, I'll just die!"

Cousin Cuisine

Turtles

Old Terrapin, the High and Mighty Low,
considered Cousin Tortoise Down Below.
Tortoise was the lowest of the turtles,
rumored to be tasty cooked with myrtles'
astringent berries, but who, then, would know?

Are these Kissing Cuisine?

Fallen Paradise

Paradise Gone

Terrapin, the High and Mighty Low,
dreamt of a garden where he once could go
freely, unafraid, discouraged not
from entering within that now-dark plot,
but many tears from way back when did flow.

La Rue de La Rue?

Stygian Crypt

From darkness through darkness to darkness, he flew,
with message so dark even Raven would rue
when broken in halves was the seal blooded-red,
with writing that told of the ashes of dead.
Still Pound spoke of naught what he knew to be true.

Raven's Flight

Lamp Black Flight

In the ill of night flew Raven by storm,
ignoring each import of undersea norm;
Like witch over water, depth of ink blue,
he flew and he flew, and he flew, and flew,
till last clutched his claw cognizable form.

Post Age

Out Lout

Rat Fink and Kit Cat laughed out and about
Extra propounding futility: out-
rageous, gay laughter, far lighter than air,
it entered each den and freshened each lair,
but shamed Extra Pound, imperial lout.

A Test Hard as Nails

At Ease in Zion

"It's very hard," growled roughly Extra Pound,
as hard upon the Hard-Shell Baptist round
of Terrapin, the High and Mighty Low,
on whom he struck many a mighty blow,
voice of the turtle still at ease was found.

Extra Pound Unsound

Sacramental

Closer, and closer, to the iron point,
a yearly metal meal waits to anoint
the king with blood and metal mystery,
a rite held, as each date in history,
a ritual to cleave from joint each joint.

Extra Pound dreams of a medieval mystery meal, a sacrifice turned sacrament, shrouded in time's dark miasma.

'Editional' Thought: Maybe I should title the poem "Sacremetal."