Poem #37

Make no mistake:

I’m here to careen battleships

And caulk their faulty seams,

To loot twee fishing towns, then dip

Once more into the seas.


Keep your Facebook-tier truisms

And cringe-inducing ‘poems’;

My fear is that once ‘I’ isn’t

You’ll ‘grave one on my stone:


here lies Ruaridh

he touched life’s


he should have remembered


to come back up for breath.


My poems are strawberry handkerchiefs

(That means their proof is ocular)

But these instapoets are fake-deep

Like backwards binoculars.

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