51

51

A Poem by Ana B.

I dropped the Conscience while I was fleeing

The Celestial Temple of Cogitation.

Mind has done enough sightseeing

Of the silent Anarchy’s gestation…

Its coordinates has many doorways

And yet folks stay clear out of the Mud

But oh, the precious Humanity has always

Had its tree roots soaked in blood.


Brooks Salzwedel (Californian artist) - Unique Drawings

 

 

 


© 2017 Ana B.



Author's Note

Ana B.

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Reviews

The beauty we hold in our hands came at a great price. A hidden tax. Upon the history of broken backs. We skip stones on the lake of blood. A lovely stain.

Enjoyed your poem. Thanks for sharing.

Posted 2 Months Ago


Ana B.

2 Months Ago

Thank you for this Joe :)

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Added on September 5, 2017
Last Updated on September 8, 2017


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A Poem by Ana B.