To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Red wine cries on a washing machine's shoulder In the trenches of certainty the truants settle, In the haven of antiquity the wastrels sigh, In the stable of trickery the drums peddle, And I will get laid, by and by. In the ocean of gravity the clouds unfold, In the country of ambition the salmon vanish, In the narrows of unity the whalers buy, And I will get laid, is my wish. In the eyrie of misery the people sink, In the crevice of arrogance the mice gaze, In the waters of tenderness the fathers riddle, And I will get laid, many ways. In the villa of reckoning the fruits sew, In the furrow of gibberish the birches blend, In the garret of conflation the books hammer, And I will get laid, in the end. But in wombs of invention the horses flee, But in blankets of corruption the flags maul, But in courtrooms of bigotry the swarms fawn, And thus I’ve been fucked. Thank you, all. |
Additional Notes:
For the dispossessed.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2006-01-02 00:25:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94595
Mark,
Gees this sounds like the whole of our country though I doubt many would admit to it. Yep, struggle for what you want, you'll eventually get it--maybe; however in the end we all get it put to us, regardless. Hope you get some soon!
Best always,
Lora