It is the night that kills.
The pills of dreams
Pour streams of nightmare sights
And fights the cosy wishes of day.
It is the cosy wishes of day
That play the silly girls to death
Whose breath the Big Boys suck
And pluck the feathers of their dying wings.
IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
Re: IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
old poem revived.
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Night Writer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: January 20th, 2011, 11:24 pm
- Location: Freezing in Hell, Colorado
Re: IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
Very nice 
Re: IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
thank you. 
Re: IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
very tight work...dark....like the night can be
an aside : I had seen van gogh's paintings many times in books, but it was nothing like having the privilege of being in amsterdam a few years back and standing in front of them that all their power could fully emerge....it really blew me away.....the paintings from his dark periods oozed madness, and it was easy overall to spot his states of mind.......
an aside : I had seen van gogh's paintings many times in books, but it was nothing like having the privilege of being in amsterdam a few years back and standing in front of them that all their power could fully emerge....it really blew me away.....the paintings from his dark periods oozed madness, and it was easy overall to spot his states of mind.......
the death of empathy is the birth of barbarism
Re: IT IS THE NIGHT THAT KILLS.
Yes, I was in Amsterdam back in 1974 and it was there I hooked on to Vincent for real. Thank you, Saw.
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