of uncertain vintage

at first there was nothing

still, with cicadas shrilling

a deadpan, unamused glare

it began as it always did

strangely named apéritifs

emptied into cesspools

a useless sack of skin

with a pithy comment

ravished and polluted

the dreadful mortification

the scent of wet earth

the rusty taste of old fear

consigned to the waste

ahead of the midnight line

the metal twisted and buckled

causing a jolt of terror

eyes rushing like searchlights

bronze statues of all the gods

the outline of a skull

just making words on the page

they were just meant to be stories

#dadaist #poetry #dadaistpoetry #dadaistpoem