Battered fingertips drum hypocrisy
into wastelands of hilarity,
defying the empty lines of dampened
ideas.
...
The tides flourish under disregard,
with silent demolition beginning
disguised as articles...growing.
Growing into conjugations, into
sentences that mean absolutely
nothing except forced globalization
and the undeniable graveyards of
sunken boats drowning under
alphabets of insignificance.
Bridges will be built with
blueprints that merely add to the
irony until all wars are civil.
...
Lives hung out to dry, wearing the
stain of an imposed democracy.
Author notes
“as the rain fell the paper balls of unfinished poems
would float away with the flood
& your tide would stick its nose
into the crevices of crumpled emotions;
and from there you would judge.”
-Tangled Angle
louder than bombs(Adrianne)
May edit...
A contest entry
- Top Secret - Mission 1 by Tangled Angle.
300 points, ended July 25, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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