An Angry Tease Is Life Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Walking briskly through life,
with a man who never won;
breath on breath surrounded,
amidst rays of setting suns;
septic thoughts blister tongue,
awaiting new rhyme begun;
writ of truth, surprised in wile,
minds, sans far beyond.

Bulleted verse, cascades poetic curse,
across the web words fly;
condemned, by fate to disregard,
the prose probing, of mind's eye;
forlorn dreams, images, and arts,
beget, your new life's surprise;
received, is this known warning,
amid an ideals bursting dream enticed.

Darkly shallow, prey lays hidden,
within one's blocking inner dreams;
elusive be, promising schemes,
in life's wheel around it steams;
one pessimistic smirk emerges,
sneering rudely, to a breath's esteem;
bleak standards, poised to lesser men,
rapt voice bellows out, the heart's extreme.

Rush onward toward torment's crypt,
pretense a common loss today;
emotion, resists a shrilling critics irk,
mourns one's fate, alas a life alone in play;
script all-knowing confines the mind,
respect, whispers thus hooray;
in circles, life's lot is cast,
as genius quickly is enslaved.

Embers, char thought's tepid flesh,
repeating, prose poised themes;
enlightened then, within one's dream,
anger's tense, is thus surely wrought;
bare does stand, mind's contested verve,
as breath so rare is sought;
alas therein, iambic banter sold;
one's new poem, glows as it is bought.