it's sunday eight twelve am
mr.sun is sitting on the left side
of my brain, the right side
drags it's molecular feet, limps
'cross my temple, but there ain't
no prayin' goin' on in the church of the forehead
this morning, just winged messengers
blistering orange firebirds
flaming soul missiles of justice
break down the ribcage door
settle hard like leaded fairy dust
in the chamber of a love gun,
lock and load your heart
is the tweet I read in the trail of spent fuel
Feel the world, Learn
their languages, Sing
their songs
Try
on their shoes,
Walk the city
walk the city
walk the city
the death of empathy is the birth of barbarism
- Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14647
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
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Re: walk the city
Interesting imagery ... I always enjoy your writing, Steve. You make me think.
-
theirishsea
- Posts: 630
- Joined: March 29th, 2009, 8:09 am
Re: walk the city
Good poem. A whole poem of great lines
there ain't
no prayin' goin' on in the church of the forehead
this morning, just winged messengers
and
flaming soul missiles of justice
break down the ribcage door
settle hard like leaded fairy dust
in the chamber of a love gun
there ain't
no prayin' goin' on in the church of the forehead
this morning, just winged messengers
and
flaming soul missiles of justice
break down the ribcage door
settle hard like leaded fairy dust
in the chamber of a love gun
The Irish Sea Is Always In Turmoil, Even When Calm.
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