Tristan Robert Lange

Black Floyd

I wrote

Poetry on your walls,

Now they echo in your halls;

You’re just another brick in my stalls.

Merry Marian,

Quite the contrarian,

Screams her shadow obsidian;

You’re just another blank oblivion.

Doggy dog

Howls into shadows—

Blew down those shady bellows—

You’re just another brick in my wall of fellows.

Sappy sours

Mash in the ground.

Happy men piss off the hound.

You’re just the shape of a burial mound.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

Tittu