Scratching at veneer,
prying pillars
off the tower buried
climbing high.
Endure.
Creating past frames
of doubt, of rationale
on the tower buried
climbing high.
Stain.
Squatting inside
senile mammoths, gnawing mules lie,
strip-mine brilliance
for harpoons
in the tower buried
climbing high.
Besides…
That rope is tied to our waist/waste,
tangled mess.
Heaving barbed streamers
into tight corners
through windows
that maul the sky.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
Scratching at veneer,
prying pillars
off the tower buried
climbing high.
Endure.
Creating past frames
of doubt, of rationale
on the tower buried
climbing high.
Stain.
Squatting inside
senile mammoths, gnawing mules lie,
strip-mine brilliance
for harpoons
in the tower buried
climbing high.
Besides…
That rope is tied to our waist/waste,
tangled mess.
Heaving barbed streamers
into tight corners
through windows
that maul the sky.
This is supposed to be an attempt at a political song but I think my message is not being conveyed very clearly and I would really appreciate some feedback on this sucker. Thanks!
Request permission to use this poem