Playing with Himself and the Piano

Playing with Himself and the Piano

Modern poetry  modern verse  contemporary poetry  contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Infernal Recurrence, more like. That Big

Mind locked itself up in the bedroom of

His hosts.  A mad philosophical pig,

He banged the keys all hours.  In lieu of love

He wanked himself, religiously.  The god

He worshipped, Dionysus, prompted rites

Involving hands and penis, not so odd

Except the ritual evenings and nights

Were thirty centuries out of sync with prance

Of long gone devotees.  A doctor for

Insanity arrived.  The crazy’s dance

Redoubled.  “Pas malade!” the Big Mind swore.

The chancred brain acknowledged no one.  Blight

The syph brought.  Nietzsche was buried in white.

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