Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Sunday, September 22, 2013

fall

the city smells like piss
bloody beatings
and fried food.
the trees grow tall in the wind.
acedemia means nothing in the face of a
billy club.
drunk people fighting in the middle of the street
the crunch of bodies
oh that mans bloody face
 all us bloodless observors.
when shit goes down...
will shit go down
whos gonna stop the violence
the madness
as we sit on a picnic table
with a beer
in the autumn chill
and the trees grow tall
the power lines grow taller
and somebody somewhere prays in church
cus its sunday morning
and im writing this morning in my shitty drawers
and no the internet doesn't know my pain
nor will it bring me fame
 somewhere in dusty california
the snow is falling way up in the mountains
a man orders an espresso
a man messes with his iphone 7
waiting for the fall.

4 comments:

Trevor Kibble said...

Nice poem

Lucas Barcelos said...

Beautiful

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