Holes in the Ground

A new horizon to look for since atop city poles we're seeing clouds,

Draining our own swamps as sickly souls are reaching out,

Morose meters begging for relief from the savage beatings,

All with verbose leaders raiding in the streets for some average heating,

Which gives men room to relax a spell if their home is heated,

Rhyming is secondary to the morals that a poet teaches,

So in an ode to Eden with a boat of peaches,

Life lessons sweet with the potent pieces,

We can then only hope that Jesus sees our coat is pleated,

One can also hope and pray even if both were needed,

It's hard to grow and easy to die as the rose is seeded,

A garden of gnomes within a bed of floral patterns,

It's harder to know if then we're dead with mortal masters,

Negativity persists at the top like hitting your kids in a political office,

Don't be so shocked to feel it like sticking your dick in an electrical socket,

Now the bricks are set, and the branch stays still with a paloma in the winter,

Security gives way to actual intent even more so than a coyote at the border,

As if to say I made it if the money's right and I may have to rap if rhymes are the first to go,

Writing until the sun rises to blanket the countryside like radioactive isotopes.

🌷 (1)

◄ Wish in Another

Address to the People ►

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