Magical Poetry

Magical Poetry
Micheal Ace

Thursday, 29 September 2016


I have called more than million times
To give you from my deadened apples
Still buried in pothole of Adam's throat
I want to tell the truth of serpent's lies
And how she roasted it in fine fain fires

I've eaten from you the flesh and bone
And Prophets fed me with your words
But i found no fats in the oil they told
And no ribs on trunk of their skeletons
And now i am the god among heathens

Hello God

I have called more than million times
To show you this boils under my arms
Cooked with pus of distress and defeat
I will tell you how i hid under the skies
From the big bright guards of your eyes

I shall come back when you pick my call
To tell you how i prey on fleshy dreams
For no one knows when end shall begin
I shall play with sands 'hides and seeks'
To bury my prides on the earth of pleas.

Micheal Ace

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