tridents poke at merciless sky
tridents poke at merciless skyscaled and drip drop
hands of dark intention
trample soft skin innocence
into powder of yesterday
weird tools of impossibility
plant their purpose firmly
in the afterbirth of tomorrow
stand of birds hover
until night finally is night
serendipity he said to me
it's a roll of the dice
a crossroad a need to choose
a needle in the great ocean
and emptied his glass
Poetry by Bob
Read 630 times
Written on 2014-05-30 at 23:26
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
Increase font
Decrease