poems for michael, one of five
With a little luck and a little life
a little mettle, a little strife
whittle twigs and bid "well gone!"
a tragic end to forgone yawn
MB Pell! The blaze of leather!
across Sonoran skies he rides
one for gun and one for reins
one for woman, one for pain
four hands on him this freak doth has?
four hands makes sense when you look past
1541's the year
conquistador glory and pueblo fear
a town of gold he seeks for Spain
a town of mud, his search in vain
2 comments:
Oh man, yeah this works. I only have an hour a day to spend surfing the net as I am prisoner at a medium security prison in Mass. I love poetry that lashes out at society.
Sean Bonzall
This is a good one dude.
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