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Array ( [sid] => 169977 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Mortimer's Sun Dogs [time] => 2012-01-06 00:03:20 [hometext] => [bodytext] =>

Ten orphans of bliss, broken into fragments of a kiss
where the wind blew before the gallows called
What is of pressure time, and lectures which rhyme
where the end knew of lonely meadows walled
and closed for passages, passenger longing
for fragments of a kiss.

I beseech a haunting of your spectra
a worship of your mesmerist eyes
a salty taste of your hips
before these fragments of a kiss.

And not for a moment longer than the coming broken dawn

Twelve shots of rum, spoken as minds gone numb
where the reactions lack proper pillow talk
Why dare season free crime, an unbelievable line
to make magic numbers of practical witch-hunting
lead by armies, arming their sheepskins
for minds gone numb?

I beseech a raising of the order
a kinship of their humorist lies
a malty taste of the wisdom
before these minds gone numb.

And not for a statement weaker than the coming broken dawn

knees bent, ode to the hellbent heaven-sent
where angels bled for the sake of life
What is of quaint forsaking, and quiet undertaking
when infinity bows to pages of yore lore
redemptionless passages, passengering not
the hellbent heaven-sent.

I beseech a better propaganda
a holier physical stigmata
a blood soaked handshake
for the hellbent heaven-sent.

And not for a penny shorter than the coming broken dawn [comments] => 1 [counter] => 170 [topic] => 62 [informant] => Daniel_L_Bamberg [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => spiritual )

Mortimer's Sun Dogs

Contributed by Daniel_L_Bamberg on Friday, 6th January 2012 @ 12:03:20 AM in AEST
Topic: spiritual

Ten orphans of bliss, broken into fragments of a kiss
where the wind blew before the gallows called
What is of pressure time, and lectures which rhyme
where the end knew of lonely meadows walled
and closed for passages, passenger longing
for fragments of a kiss.

I beseech a haunting of your spectra
a worship of your mesmerist eyes
a salty taste of your hips
before these fragments of a kiss.

And not for a moment longer than the coming broken dawn

Twelve shots of rum, spoken as minds gone numb
where the reactions lack proper pillow talk
Why dare season free crime, an unbelievable line
to make magic numbers of practical witch-hunting
lead by armies, arming their sheepskins
for minds gone numb?

I beseech a raising of the order
a kinship of their humorist lies
a malty taste of the wisdom
before these minds gone numb.

And not for a statement weaker than the coming broken dawn

knees bent, ode to the hellbent heaven-sent
where angels bled for the sake of life
What is of quaint forsaking, and quiet undertaking
when infinity bows to pages of yore lore
redemptionless passages, passengering not
the hellbent heaven-sent.

I beseech a better propaganda
a holier physical stigmata
a blood soaked handshake
for the hellbent heaven-sent.

And not for a penny shorter than the coming broken dawn

Copyright © Daniel_L_Bamberg ... [ 2012-01-06 00:03:20]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Mortimer's Sun Dogs (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Saturday, 16th June 2012 @ 01:29:23 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

If I sat hear and pretended to know exactly what you were writing about I'd be a ***** liar. I think I've got it but I'm too much of a coward to publicly embarrass myself. o_O (Probably why there's no comments on this until now)

Anyways, I did enjoy this higher plain of existence and loved the alliteration in parts. I especially loved this line as I can seem to relate to it.

I beseech a better propaganda

Thank you for a great read with perfect flow.

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