They’re indifferent
To maladroit
And sad misfits,
They who torment
Though ne’er admit
The malice they inflict,
In a so beguiling way
They’re bothered not a lick,
To exercise their pitiless wit!
torment
“ Not A Cicada ” ~ this tinnitus ~
There is a buzz
Said be tinnitus,
A ringing sound
Ne’er holds leave,
Tho has no cause
Save but it does
Till seems a hiss,
Like a cicada’s
Endless kiss,
A grating bound
To drive one mad,
As could be found
Echoes from hell,
This buzz made feel
As would a bell
Of endless peal,
Wants buried be
Tintinnabulations
And thus so well,
Rather than decapitate
As the alternate stead,
To stop tormenting
My wretched head!
Poetry on a canapé 