Tuesday, October 2, 2018

wrinkled words for waste can liners


the gentle light of violent storms

became the life that we performed

a dance with chance and circumstance

with waves of laughter and romance

which crash on cliffs that crown the sea

who hide the view of what’s to see

 

a seagull never sings a song

and yet we watch them all day long

pretentious paradoxical sleep

gathering goods from garbage heaps

all needs fulfilled for flesh and bone

where hearts are orphaned in this home

 

the sky may cry unsatisfied

the sea receive a new supply

but nothing new the clouds create

regurgitating what it ate

from the sea like you and me

we grab with hands of amputees

 

day in, day out, day out, day in

we think in lines then chase tail spin

 

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