Sunday, 6 September 2015


When all that’s left are remnants
with nothing more to say
As moonlight fades and sun parades
The colder light of day

What then the way of writing things
As if somehow the phrases counted
Pertinence demanding relevance
Scream out on Billboards mounted

Poets sit in search of messages
In hope of something else to gain
As inner voices talking all at once
Send out rejections slips of pain

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