Thursday, January 20, 2011

Pocketeer: Poem of the Day


Pocketeer oh pocketeer
Thy world buried in thine pockets
Withdrawn be thou
Amongst the many
Forlorn under pariah sky
Shell shocked by prosaics
Pocketed hands steady
Buried and buried disappearing

What!? What is it?
Cannot find your bearing?
Concrete platform ills blaring

Sordid ways and days
State machine sprockets grinding
Bumped on the street by passer by
Interuptic tribal deeds grim
Disengage disengaging disengaged

Who needs Genuine Native American Indian Tribal warmth
Bury thy hands deeper into ice steel frigid pockets solid
Watch thy ground and
Shade thine eyes with hat brim
Pocketeer oh pocketeer

No comments:

Post a Comment