Post by thefleetsin on Sept 4, 2019 20:47:32 GMT
singing to the bees
there i was
strung up on a blanket
of doves
singing
to the bees
about the circle
of life
while
the ice caps melted into
martinis
where genii's
laid down tracks
on the digital welcome mats
we wiped
our
collective feet on.
singing songs of
sick fence
a pocketful of lies
we were angry
but
we were still filling in
his pie
oh why
does it always end the same
tools of wisdom melting
in the rain
time and time again
we rise up
and we fall down
listening
to the pablum called modern
sound.
someone rewrite history
or at least
say something profound
for the train
has left the station
as the bees
blanket the ground
we were all as guilty
as those
who sent us down
for we lapped up the honey
indifferent
to the sound.
sjw 09/04/19 inspired at this very moment in time by the last t to be crossed.
from the 'beguiled series' of poems
there i was
strung up on a blanket
of doves
singing
to the bees
about the circle
of life
while
the ice caps melted into
martinis
where genii's
laid down tracks
on the digital welcome mats
we wiped
our
collective feet on.
singing songs of
sick fence
a pocketful of lies
we were angry
but
we were still filling in
his pie
oh why
does it always end the same
tools of wisdom melting
in the rain
time and time again
we rise up
and we fall down
listening
to the pablum called modern
sound.
someone rewrite history
or at least
say something profound
for the train
has left the station
as the bees
blanket the ground
we were all as guilty
as those
who sent us down
for we lapped up the honey
indifferent
to the sound.
sjw 09/04/19 inspired at this very moment in time by the last t to be crossed.
from the 'beguiled series' of poems