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SomaSonata Aug 2020
Holstered at high noon
Blistering with festered wounds
First of many moons

Fire raining down
Tap a vein of blood in the ground
Void of life and sound

Shelter for relief
Burn the place around my feet
Respite that I seek

Perish in my youth
Yellow candles light the room
Cultured yet uncouth

Painted red the town
Carnage glistens all around
Gone and left to drown

Woken by the cries
A place I still recognize
Dreams arrive to die

Atone and bleed the sin
An evil presence descends
Quell the rage within

I won't die in vain
Nefarious and insane
Poppies soothe the pain

Worn upon our sleeves
Phasing unpredictably
Nature of the beast

Tread lightly forward
Origin of vile scourge
Yet ventured onward

Grains of salt and sand
In reunion holding hands
Flee this barren land
Mark Wanless Aug 2019
the scourge of man
i am supposed to be ?
ignorance is pain
just a thought
Mark Wanless Aug 2019
the scourge of women
nobody can love him like i can
ignorance is pain
manview, i am 63,,,it just dawned on me
eleanor prince Feb 2019
pain with no script
subterranean roar
pressing call
pushing through
unkempt wasteland

places we don't see
lest they confront
status quo
hidden from all
but the sharp

as echoes we meet
find the persona
sear like another
stinging coal
on splintered frame

bent from carrying
shadows
cast on the
lake of fire's
unceasing scourge
a moment of depression breaking through, before a lighter time arrives... perhaps some may identify with its powerful pull
zebra Jul 2017
there's a monkey in my television
he doesn't speak well
but he sure talks good
hes a real politician
Mr Do Right
he much appreciates my support
while ******* in every room of the house
marking his territory
which is everywhere
and promising lavender horizons
with words like a luster of stumps
turning lives into vagrant shadows
freezing dreams like skin tags

he's **** high in **** and graft
having *** ******
an
American way of life
while he grandstands  
riding a tricycle on the ceiling
all business like
a lazy worthless *******
with a slush fund
and no limit to what he will do
flanked with mullah lawyers and the clergy
minions lackeys and body guards
he sits terminal 
upon a throne
like a jagged mouth
sure to be swallowed
struggling against the menacing whispers
of those do wrongs and the unborn

world soul disgruntled
a slave to being a tyrant
ready to **** all transgressors
of his vainglory
and a willing toilet mouth
to all above
gobbling and grateful  
when they flush
the god of money ******
leading by example
and
serving with distinction
Remembering William Burroughs

— The End —