Going back to Puerto Rico next week. The garrison is cold as steel. But the streets are alive. The kitties are fed on the square, like the souls who have passed their way at sunset. Romance is allowed. Life abounds.

kiss me on the ground

Come on, come on,
Chase me down
the cobble stoned alley tonight,

Shake me -
like a rock thrown
in a pile of electric smiles
We can survive Conception and

Run me down
kiss me on the ground;
Hear my musical screams
flailing as night falls like a

paint the junkie in colours
That can't save me....
Give me a list for the Hurricane
Bang the range on the chain
till the drummer falls down.

Poetry by Morpheus
Read 1119 times
Written on 2011-05-28 at 06:02

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