In My Room/Office/Studio

In My Room/Office/Studio
"A writer and nothing else: a man alone in a room with the English language, trying to get human feelings right." - John K. Hutchen.

Monday, January 14, 2013

The Value of X (Poem)


The axe chop came without any warning whatsoever
Pronouncing him yet another axe victim
Ex-soldier, ex-lover, ex-husband
Extricated and considered extraterrestrial
Expelled and flung into the explosive world of extreme expenses
Experiencing exploitations and explorations
Through expeditions against which he felt exhausted
His own expressions
Threatened to extinguish his very existence

Nails dig deeper to exhume and extract without exception
An exact explanation of this extraordinary exhibition of these extravagant axes
Excellent
It’s an extra examination extended right from those excommunicated exercises
Exotic yeah they are
He turns around feeling the exigency
Lethargic as he is
Exuberance is but a dream
Maybe for someone else
Not an ex-officio in exile
Threatened with execution
Minds alike facing extinction instead of expansion

They say he exasperates them
Although they cannot explain it
So they call him expatriate
Feeling so excited that they can finally exchange him without any excuse
They know he excels
Something they cannot extol
Accused and facing a number of charges
They consider him explicit, excrement, exasperating
Etcetera, etcetera
He just have to sit down
Solve the equation and find the value of X

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