We pull, into the
Grand Canyon,
at sunset.
We toss and fling
giant rocks, boulder-
esque chunks of
Earth, off of
the side.
Someone screams,
they are upset, but
no regrets,
Am I evil?
(All poems containing a question)
Am I pensive?
(All poems containing an affirmation)
Blazing across Arizona,
dead dogs grovel,
strays, orphans searching,
seeking, looking for a home,
******* and copulating,
in, vacant gas station
lots. Not a bone,
to be thrown.
Where are our owners?
(All poems containing a question)
This is enthralling.
(All poems containing an affirmation)
Fear and faith,
carry us riveting,
through rivulets of clouds,
we sore, flying above,
searching for peace,
doves.
The woods would be very silent indeed,
if no birds sing except those who sing,
best.
But,
she wants revenge,
with
a thirst for pain, I cannot
contend.
And
as the rain pours down,
sorrow falling from the
clouds.
She wants revenge.
And,
I simply cannot even
contend.
Laying lines out on
the metallic surface, of
With the Lights Out,
white powder flaked
along Cobain's black
and white face.
The drugs which killed
him, no longer causing
him any more pain,
merely giving this writer
some idolized thrill and gain.
And then high, reading
about one more creature,
dizzy with love.
God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
We pull, into the
Grand Canyon,
at sunset.
We toss and fling
giant rocks, boulder-
esque chunks of
Earth, off of
the side.
Someone screams,
they are upset, but
no regrets,
Am I evil?
(All poems containing a question)
Am I pensive?
(All poems containing an affirmation)
Blazing across Arizona,
dead dogs grovel,
strays, orphans searching,
seeking, looking for a home,
******* and copulating,
in, vacant gas station
lots. Not a bone,
to be thrown.
Where are our owners?
(All poems containing a question)
This is enthralling.
(All poems containing an affirmation)
Fear and faith,
carry us riveting,
through rivulets of clouds,
we sore, flying above,
searching for peace,
doves.
The woods would be very silent indeed,
if no birds sing except those who sing,
best.
But,
she wants revenge,
with
a thirst for pain, I cannot
contend.
And
as the rain pours down,
sorrow falling from the
clouds.
She wants revenge.
And,
I simply cannot even
contend.
Laying lines out on
the metallic surface, of
With the Lights Out,
white powder flaked
along Cobain's black
and white face.
The drugs which killed
him, no longer causing
him any more pain,
merely giving this writer
some idolized thrill and gain.
And then high, reading
about one more creature,
dizzy with love.
God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December
