March 2017 Collage Poem - Internationalism

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Blue enchantment, starlight pallette

Nazi visions of underworld clowns

An evening of art, newborns, and profanity

The clown is still king.


The bubbling, squeaking sound rising

Shaking in a frantic situation

Blood swept under a script

I saw the fox and he saw me


Creatives of the underworld

Bleed out onto the page, voice rage

We sit in a kaleidoscopic womb of words


Tesco laden-down forgotten lady

Symbolic of a world close to war


Birds flying north seeing the early morning sun

Children digging parent's graves.




◄ February 2017 Collage Poem: Mythology

Our Marble Womb ►


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Nigel Astell

Tue 21st Mar 2017 11:19

This is indeed a world created within another that spins forever creating yet more worlds everytime we put our poetic minds together.

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