Jay Bradley

Rookie (Eschenbach in der Oberpfalz)

It Is, We Are - Poem by Jay Bradley

It comes, it owns our fears
We hear it with closed ears
And speak it through the years
It comes, it owns ours fears

It goes, it owns the ground
We see it all around
Through medium and sound
It goes, it owns the ground

It glows, it owns the night
We feel the feeling right
To our knees and soul and sight
It glows, it owns the night

It crows, it owns the nest
We shutter like the rest
With hallow eyes, lit up breast
It crows, it owns the nest

It crowns, it owns the town
We litter mother's gown
Trying to gain renown
It crowns, it owns the town

It moans, it owns the bed
We split our father's head
Since grandpa's underfed
It moans, it owns the bed

It sins, it owns the beard
We see it as what's weird
When its shutters are sheared
It sins, it owns the beard

It spills, it owns the kilt
We kill the flowers' wilt
And play the hand we're dealt
It spills, it owns the kilt

It lives, it owns the grave
We know that we're the slave
Until we return what they gave
It lives, it owns the grave

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, September 14, 2011


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