Forget the world careering through space fatalistic.
Death, tear apart a war, religion, eyes…the screaming.
Are we pleased? Are we free? Obsession turns to anger
calling stony ground lost, primitive and fearless.
Confusion across the great wonder spinning by
pleased, free. This obsession turns the anger.
The dream should lie to reason over strategy.
Take a ride in the big blue too late.
Hope, looking doesn't really matter 'cause your day
now pleased, how free this obsession, the anger.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 453
Turns the Love to Anger
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Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.