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a small story

Contributed by plous on Monday, 2nd June 2003 @ 11:35:00 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

Robbed of my dignity and left for decay,
A jagged edge stained by still and dead clouds,

“My prosecution is annotated, my deliverance unjust,”

Holding the wounded memory with one good arm, a figure left less then before, an old general from the old wars, he remembers the faces of his comrades, all the fangs and claws, their growling laughter, as before the commune came, man, and his phallic statues, waging neverending wars, no cycle except for destruction, and again in vain proclaimed,

“and you judge me, they shall lose for the denial of one inside, those great procrastinators of self, lawless if not for the illusion,”

laughing with the only seeds left, the only way to feel upon something as we must all do, now retired and old, he goes now and then to look at mans cities, decaying with freedom, drying in the sun, and he loves it, and always will.

Copyright Â© plous ... [ 2003-06-02 11:35:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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