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Fuck all flock hypocrites

I am an invisible man,
never writing about angels,
or romantic infatuation.
I do not claim to be
anyone other than he
who has an elected time
to latent likelihood.

Fuck all flock hypocrites
that suckle together
with rocks of phoney visions
and unreal turn tales
of the yellow chicken,
that relies on crooked straws
that meet the puss.

Dream on you vulture
that feeds on the echo
of my undead flesh,
congregate and dance
with your silly smiles
and die, just die
never knowing the name
of the rotting shame.

Poetry by Bob
Read 481 times
Written on 2006-12-20 at 22:24