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jacob-1Poems
The whole city is dry Dust collects around the feet of skeletons who rest against the streetlamps Drunken schoolboys ride down the side walk Swaying back and forth to unknown music Like a dandelion in the moonlight ****** packs of dogs roam the streets Looking for a corpse Licking the bones clean Buildings rise tall and white A row of teeth gnashing together against the light The ******  moon  is ashamed at the beauty Now rusted and broken Long legs that step from torn black limousines Tall women in ripped black dresses Sway hips in the hot summer night Hair standing on end at the thought  of  alcohol ******* raddled coat checker Watches with a cigarette Dangling from his lips White blazer splashed with mud On his left shoulder There I was Slinking down the back alley Looking for a store bought life Long lost in some war Maybe it is the call of the jazz club Dying on the corner Or my hand locked to a paper bag I got from the gas station Maybe it was clouds Laughing at me I am jealous of their freedom As the float past me Pointless as a puddle I stepped into the gutter Black water  to my ankle Knee deep in depression But the air was warm Lights danced like candles down the winding street Who knows where I’m going I don’t seem to mind
0
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
Mohammed
The whole city is dry Dust collects around the feet of skeletons who rest against the streetlamps Drunken schoolboys ride down the side walk Swaying back and forth to unknown music Like a dandelion in the moonlight ****** packs of dogs roam the streets Looking for a corpse Licking the bones clean Buildings rise tall and white A row of teeth gnashing together against the light The ******  moon  is ashamed at the beauty Now rusted and broken Long legs that step from torn black limousines Tall women in ripped black dresses Sway hips in the hot summer night Hair standing on end at the thought  of  alcohol ******* raddled coat checker Watches with a cigarette Dangling from his lips White blazer splashed with mud On his left shoulder There I was Slinking down the back alley Looking for a store bought life Long lost in some war Maybe it is the call of the jazz club Dying on the corner Or my hand locked to a paper bag I got from the gas station Maybe it was clouds Laughing at me I am jealous of their freedom As the float past me Pointless as a puddle I stepped into the gutter Black water  to my ankle Knee deep in depression But the air was warm Lights danced like candles down the winding street Who knows where I’m going I don’t seem to mind
jacob-1
Written by
jacob-1
Equatorial Guinean
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
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