“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Oh's Well that Ends well...
To embody obscurity, obtusity or seem oblong or obwrong
or much worse obnoxious in and about ones oratory-
One may opt out.
It would be wise to steer clear of these
contortionists twists of voweling and howling and calling
it better or good or original or odd.
Obliterate this need for shapes of things and fitting.
Sometimes things do not fit.
There is no angle here.
There is no diagram or relief map out there.
Omens are only ominous if open to opinions.
It is obvious these are obsessive occupations,
making obscenes and calling them oeuvre,
it is a one man show.
Overtly, it is only overwhelming
to gain insight from inside optical illusionment.
Only by this sleight of hand or a twisting of fate,
on point, before it is over, the opportunity presents itself,
there was an odious
outbursting of objects exclusively
offensive to others.
Oh well.
Painting by Angelica Kauffman [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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