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nat-lipstadtPoems
Some Rocks Some rocks, Certain shoals, Necessary friends, Needed to crash into. Oh the poems come fast and furious this Sabbath morn, Every phrase a bullet graze, Or a bullseye in the chest wound. No matter, let them come, But know this: If I hit the rocks, The boat of inspiration sinks, I got friends, Who are ricks too, Rocks I can count on. So when my GPS dies (general poetry senses) I look for those rocks To guide me home, Look for those rocks To crash into.
0
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
Some Rocks
Some Rocks Some rocks, Certain shoals, Necessary friends, Needed to crash into. Oh the poems come fast and furious this Sabbath morn, Every phrase a bullet graze, Or a bullseye in the chest wound. No matter, let them come, But know this: If I hit the rocks, The boat of inspiration sinks, I got friends, Who are ricks too, Rocks I can count on. So when my GPS dies (general poetry senses) I look for those rocks To guide me home, Look for those rocks To crash into.
For r. A good captain, a good rock...waiting for him to find this...
nat-lipstadt
Written by
nat-lipstadt
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
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