Jumping from pond to pond
I cannot be caught
My species not highly sought
After fish oil drains from my pores
I almost got swept ashore
I kept my left eye clean
And held the diamond sign under head
Behind my back
I lied
As night crept
I moved vigorously into a sea
A sea of beings
Not an ocean of glee
A sea of beings
Proud tidal of murder
A wave of stupidity
Coward's current
Mark my words
As the free turn to birds with blood
So deep in their feathers
It's permanently dyed
Red red over head under clouds a dark shroud
Gusts of wind can't see within ourselves
Relished in crowds of estrogen
Doves dive in bleach
Pigs roll in white out with trails of blue ink
On the perfect social lawn
In military form
A straight line
No identity
Support the norm
©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.
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6 comments:
dang bro your tongue is slick with words and your pen bleeds art...the cross out except is a nice touch...vivid and intense...love it
yay! I like it. "Doves dive in bleach" got to me, as well as the initial visual impact of doing something I've not seen—strike through the whole damn poem. :)
No self expression, No Identity.
Gosh, I've read that three times now and seen something different each time. Fab!
Following the order and the line
Wow great piece Anthony
Great idea! I like it. Now that's not only creativity, but "art"!
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