Not sure if it is boredom,
Or the beating drum of tradition.
So ingrained in my mental architecture this.
I will fulfill this act of hygienic violence.
Justification stems from cerebral maintenance.
If ever wrongness is perceived,
I surely banished it.
The cracking whip of ignorance is flaying.
My bodily defense is baying.
To this I write my lyrics.
No sooner does the ink dry on this digital distraction,
I will be deeper than my knobby knees.
And lacking traction.
Welcome
Hello, and welcome to my daily poetry blog. The following poems are improvised based on my day, general reflections, or by just allowing my mind to cruise in neutral without a filter. I have been working on this for something around two years now and have amassed a lot of words. You can either go through them page by page, or check out the "Hall of Better Poems" option in the right column. Please feel free to comment on what you like or dislike, and also subscribe below if you like this sort of thing. Thanks!
- Patrick Lyndaker
(typically I will write down my ideas on paper throughout the day and I may not get in front of a computer to transfer it. So I then dump a few days worth of poems at once.)
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