Gord

2018-10-16 06:37 pm

Imagine your achievements dreamed,
To swim upstream, one's valor full,
Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow.
River colander rusted and massive,
Is this my love, and forever after,
To be strained by dirty captives?
I magic your feelings careening,
To sink a damn, one's cup too full.
Salt mounds like ashen piles,
Too often borrowed by a saline cult.
Maybe my faults found by asking,
To speak upfront, one never knows,
Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking.
To be a tan, army man, evil being,
May be taught lies fundamentally ethic,
Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.