The Shocking Tribe Poem by Lawrie Stuart Ronton

Lawrie Stuart Ronton

Lawrie Stuart Ronton

An Industrial City in a shoddily assembled one-floored house.

The Shocking Tribe



Oh my! I say,
Don't let them stay.
In the midnight rancid situations.

Frying tentacles,
Diluted in acid,
perforated leg.
Bitten by a Hound.

The Tribes hound.
It digs,
Not for the twigs,
It digs.
Deep below blackness,
of the diffused souls.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Lawrie Stuart Ronton

Lawrie Stuart Ronton

An Industrial City in a shoddily assembled one-floored house.
Close
Error Success