Mr Eastwood Poem by Guy Northam
Mr Eastwood
Slowly, so this comes together.
The high plains drifter on his way.
Pale rider, hell-maker,
Bird-like, beaked with violence,
Return us to our instincts,
And when the fools
Rush in, kill them all.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: religious
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5/6/2024 6:59:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
