False Prophet

Here’s another
Telling us he hears voices,
A glass bottomed landscape,
A slow heart attack.

Or maybe just wind.

He sits up in bed,
Farting a tune,
An embarrassing march,
Then an awkward descent.

From the dream laden parapets
To the cold tiled wards,

He’s the puffed up ambition
Of a hall filled with lords,

A bored sloth deflating,
A motherless cord,

It’s a chore
Just to hear him

Pretend that he’s cured.


9 Responses to “False Prophet”

  1. A disturbing, bitter and ironic piece – beautifully paced. Full of scorn and simmering hatred.

  2. Very imaginative
    I really enjoyed it … 😉
    Here’s mine STUFF
    !! Happy Rally !!

  3. Haha, I like that! Nice to see humour used to prick the balloons of some peoples’ over inflated egos.


  4. What a vision, unique in all the right ways!

  5. well penned…

    thanks for sharing.

  6. “A motherless cord,

    It’s a chore
    Just to hear him

    Pretend that he’s cured.”
    jealous I didnt write this…

  7. Dunstan Carter Says:

    Thanks for all the feedback. Lots of positive stuff to nourish the soul!

  8. haha dinstan dunstan! i dig this! thank you for sharing this.. my potluck- http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2011/03/08/nectar-from-heaven/

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