Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Buzzing alarms, striking eight o' clock with a plan, Dressed pin-striped so I can meet " The Something Men". Among them are the monotones that pierce no silence. Reaching, SLAMMING on the clock a bit past ten, Shedding feelings that hardly I can mention. Patent leather hitting Own St., and I opened my briefcase at Soul Plaza. Waking before the city lights close their eyes, Deciding between the instant oatmeal or corporate bath. Never will industry keep watch on me, I keep my own ******* time.
0
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Puzzle II
Buzzing alarms, striking eight o' clock with a plan, Dressed pin-striped so I can meet " The Something Men". Among them are the monotones that pierce no silence. Reaching, SLAMMING on the clock a bit past ten, Shedding feelings that hardly I can mention. Patent leather hitting Own St., and I opened my briefcase at Soul Plaza. Waking before the city lights close their eyes, Deciding between the instant oatmeal or corporate bath. Never will industry keep watch on me, I keep my own ******* time.
bdh
Written by
American
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem