Array ( [sid] => 143654 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Cunningism [time] => 2008-07-02 19:12:06 [hometext] => I can't find it [bodytext] => Cunningism I:

To step on and slay the broken hermit,
to hinder and exhale the high seasons.
I saw the barren-doves, the mustard seed,
gather beneath the reap of Babylon.
We are prepared: we tile the white hollows;
a mesh concealed within a speck of fear.
The mild fevers fade as grey spirits stroll
towards the presence of my brother’s tares.
And as if all hope was lost among men,
and the bones of the women they slept with
were defiled on broken jars of Islam;
come quick, my friends, I have shattered your sins.

As if all the words I have ever meant
has been put to halt between this Sonnet. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 199 [topic] => 62 [informant] => somedude [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => spiritual ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Cunningism


Cunningism
Date: Wednesday, 2nd July 2008 @ 07:12:06 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: somedude
Cunningism I:

To step on and slay the broken hermit,
to hinder and exhale the high seasons.
I saw the barren-doves, the mustard seed,
gather beneath the reap of Babylon.
We are prepared: we tile the white hollows;
a mesh concealed within a speck of fear.
The mild fevers fade as grey spirits stroll
towards the presence of my brother’s tares.
And as if all hope was lost among men,
and the bones of the women they slept with
were defiled on broken jars of Islam;
come quick, my friends, I have shattered your sins.

As if all the words I have ever meant
has been put to halt between this Sonnet.

This poem is Copyright © somedude


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