mourn to the maddening music of the mum

[thickwig]

silently made in the light
of the night
is a promise.
of things let be
of dreams nyet see
of thoughts' debris
of things let be


quietly the heart mourns
the pulse it drones
in existence amiss
of a hapless tedium
of happiness medium
of a mundane podium
of sadness medium


slowly the mind accuses
its own excuses
for ordinary bliss
no losses incurred
no tragedies occurred
no sorrow recurred

The curse of the OK snickers
as excitement flickers
in a moment of hope...
but only to elope
with a trite new day

mourn to the
maddening
music of the
mum
muffled are the
murmuring
mumbles of the
numb.

[riverstone]

Lots of fun, thickwig! Is the fifth line typoed? I look forward to hearing this at the teamspeak reading at the end of the month.
Kit

[thickwig]

wow thanks riverstone! It means a lot coming from you. The fifth line, I used the Russian word "nyet". What is this teamspeak reading?

thickwig