Vision Poem by Satish Verma
Vision
A brisling terror
tormenting the kelp.
Give me a lamenting mast
that will not go, fall.
In the groins
holding a promise,
a crazy god lowers
the wheel.
The absolute alcohol
in your nerves, you
want to light the
candle.
Smashing a dark
hole, which leads
to the brown
Mars
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: crazy
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