Chromosomes of Some ChromeA Poem by Jon Mahaffielike wrought iron and wine, our blood is divine as a brittle lyre and vine that twist/unwind like a kind of fish on the beach spending the last of his time pumping air through his lips and gasping at the rhyme of tides, the moon and human minds, but he doesn't understand this, the wires in tangle, the hiss greens on fire as a sign we coexist as liars and cysts to fight and drink, we coincide with missed hits by the choir that list empires of fists higher than hooks as a risk of metal s**t we're meddlin' with to fix, in our high rises a drip of nutrition, two parts war and attrition and we're pitchin a perfect game as we piss in the visions of those that close the divisions We feed your mouths with black powder and the dehiscent flower of this nuclear hour is a nuclear strike from our nuclear power and the inflorescence of this adolescence is the flinging of presents on a tight rope wire. We're given chromosomes of some chrome to harden our hearts, let us charge into homes unknown with a flight of video drones, to dethrone any thoughts from the top of the dome, and supplant what they are, with the s**t that they're shown
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2 Reviews Added on October 27, 2015 Last Updated on January 11, 2023 AuthorJon MahaffieSeattle, Central Coast, Isle Of ManAbout“Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It d.. more..Writing
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