Magical Poetry

Magical Poetry
Micheal Ace

Sunday, 2 October 2016

SIX SIX-FEET





.
.
We do not tell the blinds of rainfall
They have zillion eyes on their skin
I am you, we have the human pulse
So I won't tell you my senses are six
.
I will dig from this earth six six-feet
Two for my brain and eyes that see
Two for my skin and nose that smell
Then two for my tongue and my ears

I will bury my senses in this six six-feet
By the sixty minute of the sixth hour
And sixth month of this sixteenth year
With six me of you and six you of me
.
Because I'm tired of life and her earth
And I'm scared of hell and her death
But this breath chokes life out of me
So I shall live on deader than the dead
.
I will see no more of human brutality
Blinded to manslaughters and suicides
I will be deaf to news of new infirmities
I shall hear no more of solicitous cries
.
I shall taste the saltless soup no more
This acidic rain shall not wash my face
I will be without all hazardous thoughts
My brain freed from mentalities of wail
.
I need six wise men in their late sixties
To dig with me the six graves of six-feet
We shall do this in the earth of our mind
For we can't bury senses on this dry land
.
.
Micheal Ace
#magicalpoetry
©ACEworld

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