Twenty Sixteen

Down from the smothering clouds

and the thin air which silences the mountain

I fell into the cuckoo nest

 

Permissive bedlam

a fool speaking in rhyme

I threw up my hands

in the desire

to flee into freedom

 

The Serpent

weighed down

by delusional antiquity

and the entourage of insanity

dispenses venom

consumed copiously

from the mock skulls of

marbleised men

 

You got to see it

To see it

 

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Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry, politics,

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