opulence rides in a stretch Lincoln

opulence rides in a stretch Lincoln
soaked in the smell of oranges
and moist green tea
feudal masters donít bleed
nailing carpenters
to the wooden floor
the ravished look for hammers
they in turn can use

the rhythm of the radio
pleads with small drums
and a full orchestra squirming
for a chance at the table
there at flowers
at the end of every score
there are so many turns
mapped and spoiled

there is a tambourine tree
at the end of my street
where one can get a freebie
just for turning up
there is no substitute
for the McCoy
running up and down
looking for the man




Poetry by Bob The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 115 times
Written on 2017-02-26 at 18:40

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
lol .. I like this.:)
Ashe
2017-02-28