standard

follow
picking stones
for worrying in pockets
and though we hate
to think
for throwing

animal man
shameful and faulted
so few rise above

only the animals are noble
talent like true leaders shine
and everyone strives
for the crown
throwing shit

like Trent wrote
Like Cash sang

predictable masses
burning their martyrs
and feeling glad

smoting fires for fools gold

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: north ontario, CAN

Favorite Poets: Klo , .., Ida, .., Rhiannon1010, .., Pleiades, .., Valryianne, .., Ester, .., Stephanie, .., Emina Smajevic, ..., Elefentee, ..., Sommer Lyn, ..., Jasmine, ..., Rula, ...

Comments

Race_9togo

14 years 4 months ago

Hi Steve

As usual I can find nothing wrong,
and as usual you took me to that timeless space you always so skillfully create.
I was taken to the stoning wall, lining up with the others with stones in my pockets,
reminding me how far I still need to go.
Awesome stuff.
I've told you this before, I'll tell you again: you are one of the few on Neopoet whom I make a point to always read.

Thanks

Esker

14 years 4 months ago

dear jim

how I have cast stones
and feel them now
and go to my cave
and lick my wounds
and howl at the moon
feeling the hurt

now I know how it feels
now its my turn
Karma says a close old lover
and shes right

Thank You for the support

Nordic cloud

14 years 3 months ago

Some stones saved for casting

Some stones saved for casting
dance on the surface of the waters of time,
other sink
or turn from sailing to sinking
alternately
and all end up drowned,
some still lie in the pocket
coveted.

LuvAnn.