Thursday, August 21, 2014

I Shoot Hope Going Up In Smoke


a beggar poet
god destined
will eternally
be broke
a battered
wallet
a tattered
heart
an empty
bottle of
coke
once he
saw heaps
of money
littered on
the cosmic
bed he
realized
it was birds
feathers
when he
awoke
life is
nothing
but a
plaintive
joke

to live
or just
croak
different
strokes
broken
wheel
disjointed
spokes


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