#1
there is no beauty
only gridlocked stars
grinning back at us

an inconvenient treason
district eyes forgot to reason
as the city swallowed
the sky scared for a season

a self combustive symphony
written out of frequency
like the sound of sirens sleeping
a mechanical solstice
set upon automatic autumn

a suffocated cinema
we never saw a scene
the director dipped out
gone before the credits
we never saw his face
as god wiped the slate clean
Reaching for the sun
one may forget
the feet which
ground him
Last edited by bigbirdfan at Dec 17, 2009,
#4
maybe you should use that Critique Guide
and learn how to critique my piece.
this is not a bulletin board.
Reaching for the sun
one may forget
the feet which
ground him