Dark Poetry #4 |
Sangria Alley |
coyote Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077 |
I watch the home girl glide her stride wafting perfume inhaling fornication Her scent holds a hollow musk from the reused beds of lost flop coffins Passing by me she smiles through Jesus thorns and over-painted regret As I pull another purple swallow my mind ejaculates anticlimax on the matrix faces of the sycophantic crowd |
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© Copyright 2004 coyote - All Rights Reserved | |||
Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
Wow, Billy, this blew me away. I'm keeping it. Maree cuz fate is not just whose cooking smells good |
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coyote Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077 |
Thanks, Maree. One of my "street writes". Love ya, Billy 8) |
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littlewing Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655New York |
OMG this is extremely thick and I sit here dumbfounded wondering how I am ever going to write again. Truly amazing. |
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coyote Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077 |
Thanks, littlewing. Though I am very flattered by your comment, I have to say that it is something I've said to myself about your writes as well. Billy 8) |
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Purity Senior Member
since 2001-11-20
Posts 526Once Upon, USA |
"Jesus thorns"..." "over-painted regret"... "matrix faces"... "sychophantic crowd"... I dunno how you do it!~! Simply intense! What an alleyway, huh? Great writing, Coyote! Wings bruised from turning away in such confined space...Not broken...still healable...still feathered with life, somewhere |
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coyote Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077 |
Thanks for the nice reply, Purity. Your kind words are appreciated. Billy 8) |
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