smorgasbord of poetry, photos, political hairballs...MOTEs "More energy, grit and real life in them than 96.8% of the bullshit that comes into the Corpse."
Total Pageviews
Monday, January 15, 2018
squalid elve
The hair turquoise her system Burnt thru time
itself on drums recording, shells marking,
notches on the staff she found free of crime
hers to bludgeon, vengeance partaking
Hers to tenderize, her hair bluish-green-oxide
Hers to mesmerize, her eyes empty, memed;
scalps were invented to receive her peroxide
Astral Karma was her Theme
Her skin the wind envied, her lips the sun cried,
Her ass all mountains withered:
Her ledge eagles fled, after vanquished gods died,
Her notches, silvered hairs, snakes slithered<>
Never was her aquamarine following solid,
Often those elves found her, squalid
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment