Kona

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    Kona
    Head of the squadron -
    Paper fodder
    With a chemical itch.
    Arch-nemesis
    Feeding the season; treason
    Like a mechanical glitch.

    Top-down the dam leans,
    Seemingly feeble.
    A wandering beetle
    Saunters... For real -
    Loitering seagulls
    Shrilly ponder kills.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Psycler314’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    just lovin 0 04/14/2009
    Kona 0 04/05/2009
    e-choe 0 04/03/2009
    Out 0 04/02/2009
    slammed 0 04/01/2009
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