A bag of black

You’ll never be satisfied, so I’ll keep trying

I’ll keep on fucking up, till it hurts you..

I’ll show you just how imperfect one can be

Undulating under your brain waves

as I wait

My mistake, I forgot once again to take out

the soup can, but can….you really see with eyes so brown?

Chock full of melanin, it is you I’m questioning..

You say “A” I say “B”

You say “Nay!” I say “Si”

See? See how your foolishness spreads like open sea

or how your ignorance is whole, and fell through that hole

when you were supposed, stop, look, touch and hold?

But I care not, as to whether you loosend or tied tight this knot

as we hit bumpy waves, up and down every knot.

You’re awful, an even when I felt aweful, I just wanted

to butcher you with that sympathy, blood spill with your offal.

No more shall I swim to the cay, unlock that door with said key,

and dock my emotions, unloaded onto your quay….excuse me..

She can be your ewe, but I’m no sheep, so as you sleep, I’ll burn

the yew tree…and then leave.

….tap dancing away with pain, he said to me in the rain “for you my dear sir hath no brain”.

-S. Rich


About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to A bag of black

  1. Robert Lloyd says:

    I really liked the flow of this poem and the way you played so well with the words.

  2. Pingback: Thursday Poets Rally Week 27 (August 26-Sept 1, 2010) | Jingle

  3. buttercup600 says:

    Wonderful wordplay…keep tap dancing away the pain xx

  4. Jingle says:


    help giving happy belated birthday wishes to 5 to 10 poets,
    take the butterfly award,

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