serendipity folds towels
serendipity folds towelsby the empty pool
a drag is a joint creaking
to the sound of a belting
somewhere in dark heartland
where women are possessed
by unkind spirits and yield
to the shadows of repetition
where all flies are human
bombs are unreal even in death
I pity the second man
doubting severity to be a foe
I pity he who counts his victories
the importance of running
with cruelty and hate
to the sound of psychotic prayers
of any mindless religion
I pity any man afraid of dying
feeding his furnace with coins
and hollow lacerations
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2016-08-22 at 18:08
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Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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