Thrones splashing around metal dog collar courts
cracking blood red cider Saturday nights
plastic melts across such great words spoken in loud silence
footprint fear the new face
another night in false rented grave
falling asleep-woken from false prophet praise
knife so smooth edged
fascinated by the crimson carpet laid outside this temple
crisp white clouds pulled up tight around
a field of bizarre salad-like canoes racing along this biblical tide
ET TU BRUTE
no applause-was my impending death acted that bad
ET TU BRUTE
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Author:
giantgentlebear (
Offline) - Published: September 8th, 2016 02:25
- Comment from author about the poem: trying not to remember getting stabbed before eating the kebab
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments1
Great write
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