Cursed

Cursed is the world
shaken by selfish wars
The story is a fraud a croak by a toad
The wisdom the resurrection
land of blood, honey and infections.
Held by preaching hands of priest corpses
You woke up in the grave, pale like a crow.
Singing lullabies in the ruins of the pigsty
riding wildly in the plastic breeze.
The lizard the moonlight, the tired eyes
Exotic Hypothermia as hypnotize.
Suspended by strings
where angels & soldiers hangs themselves.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 25 October 2013

good write, thanks, I like it. Please read my poems and comment.

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