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by doc
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1736557
disinchantment
Mint, Anise And Cumin
by Donald Mann

slackidazical freak show runs ours lives.
Times, demanding propriety never shown
within thier thin lies.
Propensity; to guard their own. Makes for
Bolshevic ties.
My cave, boulder, hide from their eyes.
Say and do not; the hallmark of the lot..
Their cup their platter; poisoned.
daily dying; dance to the grave.
Sated;gluttonous, flatulent, words slyly fly
"Fill us up the measure of our fathers."
Gaily dancing. "witness's unto ourselves"


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