we, the great but tired soldiers of tomorrow, forge onward upon our battle stallions!

walden freemanwalden freeman Posts: 511
edited March 2008 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
i stand by as you go
and a breeze blows
i have changed, tanned
canned each peach
reached and fumbled
played poker with the prophets
been the tiniest tim each christmas
a greater dane than australia could offer
taken the me out of mine, and gotten in
places you could not follow
dark tunnels so depressed about being dark
that they searched long and hard for figurative light
at the end of their literal selves
too fucking bad, i've snapped at turtles
clapped at banquets for people without hands
i love mocking the helpless
one day, i will mock myself
i will help myself move on
from you
from this
from god and death
from air and life and dirt
buried
under the grass
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