Ken Moore Poems

A memoir Cast on distracted ears
wrought till rough to fade and wither
The downward glance, too patience lost
The Fable bleeds To the feeble pose
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Generations of Youth wringing loathsome labor
Corrupted by increments
The cold ticking breath of Conformities clock
A hardened Anguish grows benumbed
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obscure weathered age
Times malice unrelenting
Leaves fall vows break
A flake of oddments refuge
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The breath
The tone
The feel
It's how you see
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delivered to ramble
quiet hold hidden bare
borrowed spent with crimson gasp
blush to glow shape to dust
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In the Gloaming of life's last era
A futile finger in times dike
both wicks ashen gray
quiet comfort leers on passers by
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Sunrise an Tail light memorized
Silent drones wander caffeine and concrete
Materialistic highways Waxing the urban wilderness
A Jones class ladder builds another rung
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In A fleeting moment the age of a breath
From Still air On the Morning after
The aura of A lyric with wings
Evolves A gift to embrace
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Night fall predators harvest sunlight
from blind suburban hermits
A visual language conceived
Faintly heard
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Heavy tapestries veiling shredded statistic
Billons of high definition uber hyped conscripts
Boisterous concern trolls
With a mortgaged one per center doctrine
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