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Poor Waters
Contributed by
screwge
on
Monday, 17th August 2009 @ 01:54:40 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
The wrath of dough--
Unctuous restaurants raid the street
Of wasps.
Dignity, Indian food smells like
Arranged sweat,
Yet that would get
To
Seeping walls.
A blindfolded woman who sniffs a shirt melee
Is most
Attracted to opposite ethnicity--though she knows
Fairer moans
Would get to
Pervade her.
How that shirt would proposition, a lump
Of spicy rice loved and later detested
For its
Raucous exit?
And how the signs would shine for you at city's pith--
Until their power went abloom
And dashed their shade of porn!
This place is sick and active like
Poor waiters,
Regretful diners squirting their brooding angle's
Poor waters.
The strings of fiddle are threadbare
When you strike them right
And larksome
Upon the cold approach.
And the dogs do not bother to save us--
In a crossfire of violent smells, each begging its
Aggrieved bread.
Copyright ©
screwge
... [
2009-08-17 13:54:40] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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