Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Poetry Year August 17th

Gasp and grasp like dying diver drowned
Or rasp like king overthrown before crowned.
Like asp to breast impaled you claw,
all the world is sucked into sullen maw.

The ocean whirlwind swirled leaves,
the shreds of fatal dignities,
the dismember hands and arms do fly,
the parts of all your little lies.

To wretched timbers twirl and swing,
like dust the wind of your malevolence sling,
plastered to them the shards of light,
that once guided us through tender night.

Your name is maelstrom, made of city's scraps
Now haven for explosive traps.

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