Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Philoxenic appetence Misplaced Disproportionate benevolence Dissipate Myself: an object, given away A transient drifter with always somewhere to stay Exuberant sorrow ever-wishing to deject Distortion Deception duplicates A heart burnt black Focussed on the lacking, unable to bounce back Mouths to feed Needy hands grapple to extract No fact needed Smoky contortion Inhaled greedily Ready for the downfall Open to the wind Upward spirals shy away from the world they crave Mischievous nymphs dance merrily on a stage, Unmade Then lay down to cradle their babes Slaves to the slovenly Behaviour of unrest I know they’re trying hard but is it their best? Sing a song of sixpence, your fingers in my pie Life is not serious We’re all destined to die High.
0
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:41 AM UTC
Strange Hunger
Philoxenic appetence Misplaced Disproportionate benevolence Dissipate Myself: an object, given away A transient drifter with always somewhere to stay Exuberant sorrow ever-wishing to deject Distortion Deception duplicates A heart burnt black Focussed on the lacking, unable to bounce back Mouths to feed Needy hands grapple to extract No fact needed Smoky contortion Inhaled greedily Ready for the downfall Open to the wind Upward spirals shy away from the world they crave Mischievous nymphs dance merrily on a stage, Unmade Then lay down to cradle their babes Slaves to the slovenly Behaviour of unrest I know they’re trying hard but is it their best? Sing a song of sixpence, your fingers in my pie Life is not serious We’re all destined to die High.
andrea-cullen
Written by
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:41 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem