CLOUT

CLOUT

telling a visual story of, a cold early morning glory
yesterday feels as old, as the centre of the earth
hands cramped, writing down some lousy words, for a fly to understand
as others search, for meanings, inside a church
the bird flies, silent, in a scream, as she knows, what we don’t see

 

grass sun

a tear falling, in a memory
as the wind, ripples the stream
oooh cloud, go away, i don’t want your drops, of gold as they, blister my nails
let her walk down the fields, as the wind tears the eyes of teal

cloutsurreal

it makes no sense, to see all that unreal
disappearing, sincere
not too long, as you blast the gong, for the last verse

cloutwindripple

 

stumbling feet go ahead, through the muddy slit
where is the rubber, where is the gum
ach let it go
the
delusion of surreal

what i don’t want to see, you will see
surreal doesn’t have to be, a dream

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2 thoughts on “CLOUT

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