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liam-c-calhounPoems
Hanging turtles and Netted birds of amenity Dangle from her Left hip like jewels ‘neath a, “Ming,” ear as she traverses Mountains beholden kitchens And one more rise come setting splendor. Supper may be atop the right, pelvis, But opposite and left, Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity. I’m sure the scant pebble Rattling in between Her stomach and sorrow Was nothing more than A desperate thirst opposed the Blister born benevolence, Thirst opposed execution And a coin converted spirit opposed, “Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude, As heads clip pavement, Blood pales a gutter, Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes, A bleeding and breeding for other, Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee, For they may be next So future’s victuals arrive Unhindered. All and assumptive, assistance and rendered, She walks away with only this – Everyone’s emaciated And the butcher on the street is still a butcher, A peddler, a savior, and butcher again; A source, be it left, right or wrong, In need of a drink, as we all are, With only the means, “take me to the sip,” And by dollar come pocket born you.
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Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
Pigeon Hip
Hanging turtles and Netted birds of amenity Dangle from her Left hip like jewels ‘neath a, “Ming,” ear as she traverses Mountains beholden kitchens And one more rise come setting splendor. Supper may be atop the right, pelvis, But opposite and left, Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity. I’m sure the scant pebble Rattling in between Her stomach and sorrow Was nothing more than A desperate thirst opposed the Blister born benevolence, Thirst opposed execution And a coin converted spirit opposed, “Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude, As heads clip pavement, Blood pales a gutter, Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes, A bleeding and breeding for other, Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee, For they may be next So future’s victuals arrive Unhindered. All and assumptive, assistance and rendered, She walks away with only this – Everyone’s emaciated And the butcher on the street is still a butcher, A peddler, a savior, and butcher again; A source, be it left, right or wrong, In need of a drink, as we all are, With only the means, “take me to the sip,” And by dollar come pocket born you.
Take a walk with her and you'll have your story. P.S. pigeon doesn't taste too bad ;P
#tale#drink#despair#travel#dinner#china#pigeons#benevolent#flask
liam-c-calhoun
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liam-c-calhoun
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
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