Down
in the dungeons
of men’s minds, below
the dance halls and the giddy
galleries, deep in a declining darkness
holding no pride over permanence, appetites
edge on apps to ease entrance as dogs eat dogs.
These are no longer the days of Wilde’s wit
and wicked word play, temptations are
no longer teased from tongue
twisters but twisted from
tongues in the darkest
part of the night
where dogs prowl
the popper pool, sniffing
out stimulating stimulants,
playing with prey, praying for applause
to that great god ground down; credit card cuts
of white lines that can’t quite cut through
these savage times. Digging deep
in the dungeon of darker minds,
men make moves too difficult
to swallow. Dogs eat dogs
and I realise I’m more
captive to caviar
than canine.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud:
Damien B. Donnelly 
Good gracious … that graphic looks terrifying!
I might have overstepped the mark on this one but, you gotta of with the flow! Happy Weekend to you both
Hey dear Dami, don’t take me too seriously! It makes a VERY dramatic impression and I was just, well, impressed 🙂 Best wishes from us both!
Oh no, don’t worry, the poem scared me too! 🤗🤗😳
Yikes!
I ‘m trying to do a catch-up this morning. 🙂
This one might have scared you awake! Sorry! They get softer now on the down hill to the last few albums.
🙂
Certainly captures the spirit of “Hissing of Summer Lawns”. (K)
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