Friday, February 10, 2012

Friday Night Poem

Silent Violence

I smell rain
But it has been snowing for days
The earth frozen beneath our feet,
Trees shrouded in mourning white
Attend the sad funeral of a life
Lost to ice.

Know your pusher,
Rent out a faded corner
Of couch to the friend
You hate the most and then
Bend over backwards to discover
New domains of pain,
Favoured in the quiet backstreet
Leafy suburban panorama of normal,
The white bread variety of hell
Where we take the names of saints
In our race down to the corpse strewn
Shore of a sea that sail has long since

Smile, while I offer you
A generous finance plan
For your teeth.


For Syria

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