Poetry Blog by Wolfgar (2018, dementia)

dementia (Remove filter)

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Vicar with dementia in a pool of his own piss


As a younger man he had taken the cloth

had sold his humanity to God

had blessed babies and crossed the dying

had given assurances of eternity

and peace to those for trying


He had been a good father

a passable husband

he had wandered to and from his flock

but mostly he had held fast

and built his house upon the rock


He sat in a pool of his own piss


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entry picture


Tin pan alley teeth

lost in a cave-like mouth

in a sleeve of slime,

your face like physical graffiti

is merely a mask.


Your lolloping tongue

rests on a step of blue lips,

that if crossed uninvited

whips inwards like magnetic gravity. 


Your eyes are blinds drawn down

painted black on the inside,

whatever enters your arc of sight

is dead before its ...

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