chris bowen

Rookie (04/30/1969 / fernandina beach, fl)

Matter Of Ghosts - Poem by chris bowen

graves cave.a hand waves in awe and raw wont be too late to run but i hope your swallowing's done.the fun in hot sun over.go know her, death, it wont be crystal meth in the chest.a vest so old it tells tales grown cold.a bold man once, worked for ponce he's on, hells agreement.the freemen slave, the night wont summer say the wave is enthusiasm and back spasms.thats the trick of ghost ask my mom, i brought the quija board on.she was dead on the lawn like a fawn shot.she was all i got.

Comments about Matter Of Ghosts by chris bowen

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Friday, May 7, 2010

[Report Error]