War


To talk in an age where words
account for Naught, where voices

Reach their limit under the
strain of the third dimension,

The Kiss of Spirit brings
the earnest to Perfection;

Its saliva lingers, its
breath becomes yours, in a flash

The taste is routed, and
carried off through hidden doors;

Return to me, return to me!
the love-poison – Speech!

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem