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Blog - Richard Downes

Acorn: Synopsis

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photo of acorns

Creativve Commons photo of acorns

I wish I knew where this came from. But I don’t. Its lost to history. Ah!! But, yes. It’s an acorn. Not a work poem scrawled on recycled paper, with a stolen pen, lifted by a disengaged employee. Rather it is with Kristofferson – Sunday Morning Coming Down – on an indolent, lonely, Monday, the sun distant and my love sleeping. It arrived, unfinished, yesterday in a dank dungeon where my tormentors failed to torture me. Oh! but those whip handed monsters will wish they had when they learn less than what they want to know.

Acorn; Synopsis

My name is not nominative
But identifies much about me

My weight is not unbearable
My height regularly seems stare-able

My sexual orientation faces east
My bottom backs to the west

My team raises and waves a standard
I cannot get behind

My gender became fluid today
But has otherwise been stable year following year

My taste exists to be teased by faggots
Though I’ve dined more often on winkles

My age since I mentioned it is very welcome
Inconstant and forever changing

My car, my protector, says is red
I’m never seen as less than green

My colour is not discriminated against here
But faces pressure in other towns and cities

My language bears much fruit
At once fresh and most times rancid

My religion has not been written
But remains like all others; mythic and unstable

My housing stands beneath the fortunate sun
Starting smart, turning slowly squalid

My employment at its most gainful
Resides in this the best of ungainly lines

Who, is the question I ask
To find out what and where I am

Labeled and unlabeled
Defined and not defined.

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