|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
Tribes
Contributed by
Stapler28
on
Monday, 30th May 2005 @ 11:06:03 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
A six inch blue flame Ignites the rolled up edges Of a magazine Containing his Best his prized Choice Dry Gold Inhales he sucks in The fog and he Feels it spread He sets his chair to retract And releases the shell
In the winter twilight A thousand rouges Will opt to fight And clutching Cold spears A fading Memory Forgets Fear
For the first time He is seeing dread The ancient shaman Basks in it Surrounded by skulls And surrounded by Superstition His own death In his own premonition
After 2079 a ghoul machine is now gasping for a hard silver scream its red eyes shutter and explode a psuedo man has cracked the code
Copyright ©
Stapler28
... [
2005-05-30 23:06:03] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Tribes
(User Rating: 1 ) by Jimmato on
Tuesday, 31st May 2005 @ 01:15:48 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
this is deafinitely obscure, pretty good but obscure.
keep it up |
|
|
|