Monday, September 28, 2009

The Crave

Its murder i quote..
broke heart,broke wallet,
no ropes.
cant call it..
read it or recite it..
just come up,ears up..
dont get stuck
on the passions of bad luck..
thrashing the rusty brush
about with a midas touch..
leaving the meaning mangled 
in specks of cloudy dust..
beyond odyessey..
free to the bone,slave to the tone..
i assimilate everything im shown
until im full to form poetry..
in any forum
the formula.
accentuate thought verbatim
thats foreign with witty decorum
in every area,,
the panorama's pantameters reach..
beyond shakes peers peaks..
leaving brains beseiged
the sense's tweak and leak
stunted from a growth
its the breaks revised
from parts unknown
courtesy of woes froze,
echos of an eye cone..
a cornea..clipped and torn..
no icons..
no media..
no medium
for the relief..
impeach my speech
and write rhymes
w clenched teeth..
bitter brief..linear belief
learned defeat,
hunger increase...

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