Oct 24, 2011

Talking Stones

Hast thou accent been soothed
The syrup finally licked bone dry?
Now, the doors shut to harsh cry,
My ears , bloodthirsty for the refined,
If it is near;
May I find discontent,
And gingerly harness that polite event.

But, the voice, rude and blunt,
The chords mellow out witch hunts,
For his caramel records once replayed,
As strings of concern strummed dismay,
Does it delay?
And struggle fantasy between lyrics,
And disregard harmonious sounds I mimic.

Still, I walk inside stone filled house,
His voice weaker, like starving mouse.
Like ancient words befalling unto fire,
Now the energy has burned down to wire,
As we overthrow the pause of humanity,
In stones , there is but senseless insanity.
Oh! Why our calamity?


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