I've been to the crushing
place.
It smells of death, and
spider mums.
Daisy chains dropped
when the music died.
The lake is murky now.
Clowns roam the street,
looking for carnivals
and meat.
Silly boys still believe
in love and dreams, and
girls that like opera and
giving head.
This world is strange, and
Picasso walks the lonely
avenues, feeding
seagulls' peanuts and paint.
No one blames him.
It's his blue period.
All the while,
an old bent man plays
the guitar.
He smells like camels,
and hope.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 22nd, 2024 14:59
- Comment from author about the poem: My recently published book is on Amazon, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems by Thomas W. Case
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 49
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments8
Excellent
Thank you. Much appreciated.
You're welcome
Modern art where ever you can find it. This poem reminds me of Picasso
Yes. Thank you.
Great work Thomas.
Thanks.
Good one Thomas.
Andy
Thanks.
Wonderful 🌹
Thank you, sweet Teddy.
Beautiful poem ! Enjoyed it
Thank you.
Another great write, my friend. Love all the little details. Just fantastic.
I appreciate it.
beautiful ...enjoyed reading it
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