#casio
Come on ! Come on !
Let's go ! . . .
row upon row
do the red poppies grow
Red ! Red !
the petal fed
taken from the lives
of the young and dead
The white bones
bleached of dreams
and forgotten sins ,
everything
Row upon row
of white the markers go
drenched in poppies
the dead in red grow
Bleached bone dreams
no breath
no whispers of "dear"
that death's spear pierced
Their's , no longer
the years , the fears , and tears
where the red poppies grow
row upon row
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
YOU delirious about the coastal span - from
the country that went on a hot year - then become the
beach your body: spread out - fragrant and hungry!
Like the perfume ad page, which is torn off
thick copies, magazines that chock short of pictures!
The one on you lies, I, which is released by the wind,
large pickaxes, mooring the sky, then sprinkling wildly
I started this guerrilla, facing my own shadow,
your spicy sand bath, quartz that grows hearts
Late afternoon. The sun goes past: yellow past
soon it was broken and glowing, the blood of a snake
I've repeatedly looked at digital numbers,
Casio - waterproof, 200 meters - an hour of the day
*
If the sea yells, the sentence is the waves!
He did not carry any name, until he called the bay
Place turtle loggerhead, from far journey,
Thousands of miles pilgrimage, to the sand he had hatched,
littered, food wrappers and beverage cans
This ******* like undesirable verbal abuse!
*
What have I found? Or broke it? I'm a farmer
threatened insect pests, certainly can not keep, seeds per
Seeds, immature rice. The season is short-lived.
When I see the location of the taxi to the North,
I also had to go back there, fold the map, then
stepping like a man's footstep -
like the song I heard from Springteen - and
write down a poem that I am afraid of his verses.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 10:35 PM UTC