Another rewrite.
Violent street-surge washes watery broken dreams,
fallen heads pop open like grapes under heavy feet,
indifference flows like clouds of mortal fear of flees
in altar nights no one really wants to be a part of,
bishops and pawns drink side by side at pristine mass,
the pale love of money shrivels and double dies
as daybreak rolls like heads of washed out thunder
and the stage is set anew for the spectacle of seeds.
Cardboard beds disturbed by the sun's early bird
hold their human refuse at main ship ransom,
settlers of the undisputed gutter glow-worms
fade with the cruel coming of another church hill morning,
from above lit windows wink and sneer cross tiled
to the grinders of salt and seabirds in weary mills.
All is just another turn tale revelation of the misplaced,
misinterpreted and without hope of pinnacles or gravel.
Poetry by Bob
Read 491 times
Written on 2009-03-15 at 22:08
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Dawn
Violent street-surge washes watery broken dreams,
fallen heads pop open like grapes under heavy feet,
indifference flows like clouds of mortal fear of flees
in altar nights no one really wants to be a part of,
bishops and pawns drink side by side at pristine mass,
the pale love of money shrivels and double dies
as daybreak rolls like heads of washed out thunder
and the stage is set anew for the spectacle of seeds.
Cardboard beds disturbed by the sun's early bird
hold their human refuse at main ship ransom,
settlers of the undisputed gutter glow-worms
fade with the cruel coming of another church hill morning,
from above lit windows wink and sneer cross tiled
to the grinders of salt and seabirds in weary mills.
All is just another turn tale revelation of the misplaced,
misinterpreted and without hope of pinnacles or gravel.
Poetry by Bob
Read 491 times
Written on 2009-03-15 at 22:08
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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 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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