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Jan 03, 2015
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Complex Texture
I hear the sound of crumbling bone
The vultures breath is warm however laboured
It's thoughts are tunnelled... savage.
Feinding, forlorn and floating.
The blurring smell of blood and innocence,
A blinding sense of disorder.
Who knows better the sensation of nature?
Not I,
For I am ecstatically preoccupied.
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
wesley snow
10 years 6 months ago
Very original.
It caught my attention. Sad to see this as your only post over so many years. I hope you post again.
Bosscombat
10 years 6 months ago
Hey,
Hey,
Thanks for your feedback Mr Snow,
I unpublished all my older poems.
Look forward to hearing from you again.
themoonman
10 years 6 months ago
Oh shit
Read this one out loud, everybody ...
thanks for posting and wowing my afternoon,
good to see ya,
Richard
Bosscombat
10 years 6 months ago
Hello again Richard
Hello again Richard
Glad it could make a difference to your afternoon.
Look forward to hearing more from you as well.
Esker
10 years 6 months ago
sounds like the ol family picnic
beer an coolaid with a bucket of chicken
hyenas
at least with wings one can wing off with morsels
or this could be the news at night..
my peanut butter and jam
gotta fuel up in case something
comes up at night.
drop the bomb
etc
one eye on the horizon..
Great Poem!
Bosscombat
10 years 6 months ago
Hey Esker
Hey Esker
What's beer and kool aid taste like?
Look forward to hearing from you again as well!