Thursday, September 17, 2009

Daily insanity

Morning begin
with the anticipated surprise
of daily deaths

Afternoon a stroll
to an ocean without a shore
where broken boats of hope
row away in little ripples

With dusk
the drunken poets came
Afflicted by a strange epidemic of optimism
Brought forth by bouts of nostalgia

When the insipid evening arrived
like a hermit with vows of poverty
I find insomniac soul
gazing wistfully at the end
of a graceful coil of a twisted rope ©

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