|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
Tribes
Contributed by
Stapler28
on
Monday, 30th May 2005 @ 11:06:03 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
A six inch blue flame
Ignites the rolled up edges
Of a magazine
Containing his
Best his prized
Choice Dry Gold
Inhales he sucks in
The fog and he
Feels it spread
He sets his chair to retract
And releases the shell
In the winter twilight
A thousand rouges
Will opt to fight
And clutching
Cold spears
A fading
Memory
Forgets
Fear
For the first time
He is seeing dread
The ancient shaman
Basks in it
Surrounded by skulls
And surrounded by
Superstition
His own death
In his own premonition
After 2079 a ghoul machine
is now gasping for a
hard silver scream
its red eyes
shutter and
explode a
psuedo
man
has
cracked the code
Copyright ©
Stapler28
... [
2005-05-30 23:06:03] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Tribes
(User Rating: 1 ) by Jimmato on
Tuesday, 31st May 2005 @ 01:15:48 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
this is deafinitely obscure, pretty good but obscure.
keep it up |
|
|
|