Sentinel

I watch the coffee percolate, then

drink it like a deluge in the desert.

Phantasm of equilibrium squints back

through the mirror of opprobrium,

to offer more misanthropic musings

from within a myopic miasma of misery.

 

Burnt coffee serves only to inumbrate

my outlook, like the dregs of a final shot

to an inebriated sage. A final lapse,

the penultimate attempt to transfuse

a semblance of sense into a senseless situation.

The empty bottle is my eternal sentinel.

Reviews

[Bailey C. Writing]

To be honest, I didn't understand what half these words meant. -sigh- But thank you for helping to improve my vocabulary :P This poem still had a nice flow to it, I loved the last line...and you did a good job

[An owl on the moon]

You words bring about such a flow and flight of words... a richness of imagery, emotion, and thought.

[Chris]

Love the morning's after...

Chris

[Teri B]

Reminds me of my "Whiskey Lullaby". And a lot of moaning going on with all those mumbling m's! *grins*

[.n.]

You've got some serious alliteration going on in this piece along with alot of ten cent words. Kind of disconcerting...perhaps that's the point. Interesting read.

[Kenneth The Poet]

This is the last cup of coffee before somebody puts on their last song and swallows the barrel of a handgun.

Warped I know, but that is what I see here.

Nice work as always, Jeremy.

[Black]

nice poem,
but one more or less saying that wont help,
i hope this isnt the way you really feel,
because that would be really sad..

[Layla Anne Massaro]

interesting write. nice one. >:)

[Ruth]

Oh wow! This is another biting piece love...you literally twist and turn emotion like a fork in jelly! lol And I mean that in a great way! Brilliant work! xx