Sunday, May 13, 2012
Hearts Of Drums
Hearts evolve as bent sticks,
The sticks wend their ways around us.
Instead of insisting, the sticks become
My loneliness, as they track the criminals
With their glare and fighting strategy.
This ground quakes for the offered circles,
The masculine circle, aware of a gathering storm,
Wide gaps produce wide storms.
Let this misery pass, like the bread
And the eggs have parted with an arbitrary rule.
The regime of fountains continuously celebrates,
Moving aside and keeping cash
Like the very ill fountains,
Strong in wealth,
Yet again money is gold
As we strive to the gate of trumpets and drums.