No pearls
Vicarious wants of doom's dominionroll the staring dice with calls for more
in dark nights of Neolithic echoes
where one man's bid for a hold unto rock
is another's saline stare at sweet taut skin
with fields of future pleasures rippling
in a wolf pointed winter wind,
sharpened by a dark will to possess.
I will swallow the dark pill
and fill the empty night with rain
for the lost innocence of a child
crossed en-route to comfort and trust
with one eye hanging from the sky,
the other flayed on a beach
with dead oyster at hand, no pearls.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2007-01-30 at 06:55
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