Wee little face o' gazing
stars, somewhere upon the face of mars
red summers' drop in dew
forever sleeping black and blue.
Wee little face o' gazing
pries, piercing through the veil of lies
where newspapers hear no cries
of pain or sorrow
just tomorrow's ratings numbers.
Wee little face o' gazing
stare, vacant in the listless air
pockets shroud the globe aware
that any face was ever there.
Another face amongst the countless others,
buried in the static void.
The sky is crying, heart of break,
wept the clouds at morning's wake;
barraging pavement tears set free,
witnessed endless tragedy.
The tears barrage the cut green grass;
innocent life, it's theft (en-masse).
Kissed by tears, the corpse shall lay;
till the end of such theft,
the tears shall rain.
COMMENTS
I like this one. It's short, but the words are just right. It's brilliant.
In the greenly emerald plant, our dreams are in the soil;
evaporating the dew amidst our earthly petals with a burst of steam,
our dreams;
a purple cloud.
Velvet cotton rainbows with a silky smile,
stems of thread entwined,
barely visible from the first story view;
captured forever in a paper memory.
A paper memory now blowing in the breeze,
filled with bullet holes;
cradled by the tears of chlorophyll
and the furry paw.
Unstable Summer
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The heat of hell nile
evaporating rivers
June to September
Charleton Heston's Fantasy
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The sky rains bullets
clouds soaked red
NRA dreams
Copyright Funeral
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"Freedom is the right
not to photo copy"
said Xerox at it's grave.
The Espionage Effect
==============
The New York Times
granted assylum by Ecuador
photos leaked of Paul Ryan's ass.
Where lurk you, red frill leaves?
(A falling)
Pray you not a heaven but a land,
not a wilting flower blown afar,
but a frown upon the brown decay.
Where lurk you, red frill leaves?
Summer's end and yet the book unfinished
page's mark has yet to lay;
the unprocessed leaf unwritten
still yet dreams of stable weather.
To frolic in the cool;
midday weather gone unseen
recorded,
yet was it dreamed?
Where lurk you, red frill leaves?
A red robin's nest in flight,
it's owner only flies at night
presents a rather dire plight
...and gasps it's winded yelps aghast.
A sire winged of trees' decline;
once sturdy stood the times defy
but now tis merely ruby wine;
...the chlorophyll died;
A red smear upon the walk.
...And then the palette rusted;
to frolic in the cool forgotten weather;
where lurk the red frill leaves?
My keyboard weeps,
It's shedding keys
And every day it sheds some more.
Hopelessly I awake to find them missing,
having to find new words to spell
and feeling my vocabulary vanish from the net.
And so I find my keyboard weeping,
coming to grips with it's demise.
It's functionality decreasing,
I press it's keys one final time.
Thus I can only wonder how long until every key is repossessed.
COMMENTS
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