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| Subject: Free Verse | |
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Author: Christine (Strong Language) |
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Date Posted: 16:39:47 01/19/08 Sat scattering the chink of change ranging from the penny of thought to a wealth of fortitude, we all dig in our pockets searching....searching.... take it away, give it up, make me talk dirty give me something to sink my teeth into I'm feeling my whore spreading out for a mighty dollar a day, chump change in drag we cry, we ache, we reach for more wanting to ram a thrust of clenched rock deep because we're still hungry after being fed, never knowing how to quit even roses in gardens steeped in the shit of another's labors don't smell any sweeter - they're still fenced off in their own world hiding in putrid bloom, wilting away in the fall give me more than a flower lip, a trollop in snow... I want the earth on my skin with the rush of bruising latent in passion's ardor, not the stain of a seedling mulch waiting for the drink of tomorrow you go sit there while I get my own fill I'm not answering to your word in my head because after all, meter and rote is just rented space in a box of normalcy TR ;) [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |