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Free Love Poems \


By missrizz on 03/30/2006
Viewed: 364
Reviews: 1

He hears 'em
he hears 'em
from his back bedroom
his pit of gloom, that

even the open window
the white eye of the sky
the calling thats falling

from rooftop, from tree
cannot bleach bath
into light, into light.

Can hear 'em
can hear 'em
their happy clappy chorus
and pat-a-cake pitches

their very merry melody
of screaming
must rise like a mist.

It rolls, it rolls
it rolls over rock
like a wave, doesn't break -

over hill, over brick,
it beats like
a stick at his ear.

He catches it
he catches it
hold it upon cotton shirt

pipe smoke
antiseptic air
catches it as a choke

in his throat,
his last breath
is that of children.

© By missrizz On 3/30/2006 6:28:12 AM
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