Poetry Blogs (tradition)
A Marriage Of Ghosts
Something old; crumbling bones.
Something new; innocent youth.
Something borrowed; parental beliefs.
A bride forever blue.
Flesh bound to ash and bone.
A knot ties the living and dead.
Union of child and corpse, rotting.
Protection from cursed health and poverty.
Escaping abandonment, in a death shed,
destined by ancestral expectati...
Wednesday 11th July 2018 1:46 pm
Breasts are something to be ashamed of, something to hide,
Yet something that a kid will suck on just to stay alive!
Something everyone once depended on once in their life
Yet something evil, something I must hide
A man's nipples are useless and yet just fine
The woman's are lewd tho to a hungry baby divine
To wear one layer of clothing!
A sin God forbid despite the sweltering heat
Friday 22nd May 2015 7:09 am