"Inland Surfer" (my greatest poem)

Inland Surfer

In the beginning, expectation’s pornograph moulded assumptions

That the cutesy parents deemed fluorescent;

The dutiful had steady certainty of a stayer;

But for the martyrous it would be a disaster.

Elucidate the contortions of an arbitrary grouping:

You play then I play a card. Refracting in the rally.

Pause, pause for me, buoys. Slithering into the gaps of who expects it.

The encounter was a probing of faults, ball-slot, a sequence of shops.

And fashion was a hot shaft for safe commerce.—

But I cannot stay my mind to describe the mutant reapings of the dance.

Even slight confidence kindled an entire quire. Imitating,

Subdue your clamour at confiding the top layer of horrors:

Even the holy meek do not encompass the raunts of warriors.

The fervour uncontrived and unfanciful; peripheral glide,

A wavering ammeter. Occasionally, a minor recess, the twanging ruler.

Most did not ascend to note each teacher’s limit of concern,

By sedative respect or being themselves stubborn.

The academia was a rail, and the ghosttrainride of the most faint and brazen

Finished by a dumbness seeking company. Stability and flavour truncated

Upon assured stagestrutting, leaving the shell.—

Haunt me with a cello, plead awareness of the pastiche,

Single-out me as a monument, O you patience of chairs!

My nasal sobbing shall reverb until the tandem

Drumming rain expires. I am a sweltering

Ark in the dark mosaic, impressions of a body, heaving.

Either you have it or you don’t. This ego

Invested-in this spirit, this body. But grievous

Acceptance proffered the critical daggers of dishonesty.

I fell asleep with the track on repeat. The disc

Shimmers, a mirror of my imperfections.—

Come, regal fire!—a proud and raucous unison. A strength

Mutually checked, with glum shame mauled by tigers.

And in this aftermath, from the flurry, is even a broad

Kinship. Outcasting was tacit and settled: Plod-away, vagabond. He does,

And the ensuing absorbing discussion to identify the normal guy is futile.

You could be a child struggling to surmount,

But when they looked-square to you, you had to be a man;

And they were grateful at this easy development in microcosm,

A gentle denial. My friend, there was a man standing on the beach,

Gazing neither far nor deep into the ocean, shining.