streamed like a fast car
streamed like a fast car
racing for glory
on the streets of Monaco
a demented wind
crashing into open windows
slashing the why daft
and the mislead
derelict I am at this point
drooling at the thought of more
because there is no sky
no escape no direction
no appealing authority
to take your complaint
so what
tremendous is the claim
to be in tune
with the I am and all the rest
the wrongly circumcised
the ones with no hair
the meek and the psychotic
they all need air
the night was like tenderness
a glimpse into the I will go
where I can find my connection
my two-timed observation
the argument that I constantly am
at all times
sleep me then and let me go
Poetry by Bob
Read 561 times
Written on 2017-04-25 at 22:33
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 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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