That's the trick...
Lay silently,
Like a cold corpse waiting to be devoured,
By birds and other....
Such animals! I cannot believe they left you like this!
They are under scrutiny and shame,
Yet they fallow a chirp of pity and pain
Birthing me, she asked...
Twilight blues?
Renegade Freedom
I responded...
Your like a cook in a desert,
You don't play nice,
With women or children...
Ok the silence is over! The butler or something screeched,
I've long winded the chase,
And i've dawned a new thought
We will rise the morrow with a crimson red...
..do you know the stakes you take?
For all the beauty you imagine
It's as if you aren't there
Or anywhere else,
I could suggest
The elephant snorts his gestures of guile
And cordless phones still reign,
But the satellite dishes, the poachers,
They can't get a rest
This is a tribute to freedom, in all forms. It is both militant and completely a hippie, childish, yet elderly and wise. This poem is fluent and broken, sad and joyful