Κυριακή, 11 Απριλίου 2010

Five-Pence Monologue



Poppies whirl in my head
Lears howl like a bad romance
Absent Moor in opium they swim
Green Iagos fall in smelly beds

Odours of blood react at politicians’ words
Brothers grovel for success between the worms
The years of a strong ecstasy haunt us
A passion of Pluto has gone above us

No lover stays angelic
Hell reigns all bodies
Buttered flowers are psychedelic
Abrasive and snide movements marry our toys

~for the White Moor…~

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