I again
Everything is on line.
Everything is all one might conceive,
interpret or ignore.
Time, naked, bared to the skin,
moves beneath caressing fingers.
You are among the blind
– catacombs, flesh, flesh, flesh.
You are, you are!
Crossroads we are,
whispering, creeping,
always expecting more.
Knowledge is a sword,
cutting deep into certainty.
Woe to the whish
of lazy reduction,
of more at ease
and casual surface.
Putrid eves of no more,
sulfurous to the beat
of generous heart,
claims no dominion,
dares to dance
in blood and violence.
I am the voice you hear.
I, burning at insolent fire,
I that fails and yet,
morning will always be morning,
intentions solemn.
That is I
and established.
Lesser men dives in dreams.
Lesser men leans on faith.
Poetry by Bob
Read 435 times
Written on 2011-04-17 at 22:43
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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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