White and pretty

Ice cold
Put the fire up, I'll play butchered tiger cub
Packed neatly at your feet
In grinding lust and fiber love
Oh, I love the humming of the treadmills
It chews my bones and brings me headfulls
Of ducktalk on some fuck, walk
And play the part that we assigned you
So I whistle on the wind and act like blind food
An epistle about the sin that's about to find you

Cause, fucker, I am me
I filled the blanks with pure catastrophy
And went about it piously, pioneer
Zion air, shaking spears and dressed in lion's hair
Every single brick you stack and every single rule you make
Will be a carpenter on strike when the concrete cracks
And the earth quakes

And that's about the point where I awake
Slither into clothes and I'm a sly-ass snake
Leave the house, that big fat house
The sky never looked this white and pretty
And the sun is druling hot, about to bite this city
My eyes fade out
I'm gone again
Put that fire up

Poetry by lou bergs
Read 1157 times
Written on 2006-04-20 at 00:37

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Esti D-G The PoetBay support member heart!
excellent write
luv estix

good stuff

care bear
one word. INTENSE! i like it.such feeling.kip on.

An interesting, angry in your face type write and so expressive, well done.

Your writing is getting more confident and pointed.
Curious about the transformation!
Good to see you posting again.