March 30, 2011
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We sweep

brushstrokes in ink

Up to down, left to right,

right to left

We scribble to ease

This deafening silence

Cemented between decrees

We write of crying children

and broken promises

thinly veiled

of fathers that never come home

and Absolut being flushed down

shot by shot

Merlot too

Although in the sewers

it doesn’t really matter

We write of death and love


Michael Jackson


rock n’ roll




Carved up, left to dry

We write in blood

We’re dangerous men.


Looks like Scheherazade’s lifeline

Is our demise

Because our strongest words

Don’t leave our mouths

But are carried by servants

In grimy alleys

And aren’t shouted

But whispered

In cheap cigarette voices

They float to scraps of paper

And fly from lowered terraces

On kite strings

Coated in glass

Then hush.

Because stick or stone can break a bone

But words can break a kingdom.

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kat27 said...
Apr. 27, 2011 at 4:46 pm
thumbs, up, dude. Needs to be in the magazine.
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