Fathoming the serious mysteries in every boring person

fathoming the serious mysteries in every boring person

oh the questions that i dare not ask your pancreas
your kidneys, your intestines, your nerves
your heart.

each bit of you that is so private there
beneath your pale soft skin

like the thoughts that boldly grow and linger
in each breath before
they fade into the sunset

oh the answers that i dare not give you now
my verse, my hearse, the settled debts and
the balance of my conviction

each bit of me that is so public here
above the dying grass in the shade of my name
etched in granite.

Leanne -

I have balanced upon my conviction
organs, kidney left and right
so stone alone shall tip the sun
and nerve be lost with heart

When acid etched on flabby walls
the answers tagged by time forgot:
what stone was man? What fortitude
was fallen, and what part

Of death was never meant for you?
For narry hearse would carry verse
so skin, though soft, shall graven be
with nothing more than I

Anstey -

Showoff! Yours is way better than mine.

Leanne -

Six versus half a dozen, Mr Anstey. Truth is, I can't be bothered being original today because I am buggered, beat and battered.

Tracey -

I'm really into this piece, from title to ending. It's got that wonderful Anstey-uniqueness, that way of expressing ideas from angles that wouldn't occur to some people in their whole lives. The images are great, the tone is conversational and deceiving.

One small thing: In l5 "you" should be "your"

Anstey -

Danke schoen Fraulein.

Jen -

I'm the most boring person on the planet and I really like this.