Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Monday 16 January 2012

shivering timbres running right
through the lights.

stop a runaway pram as it plummets
down the hill to mortify for such
a certainty as to be unstoppable.

but you do
manage to stop it.
somehow throwing an entire
sinewously wrapped up
package of pain in the way of hurt.

yet all will
hail heroes until

they

fall.

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