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rage against the dying of the light...

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, July 21, 2011. When I Was Dead. When I Was Dead. I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet. As they dragged across the heat. Tripping against music and beats. I danced when I was dead. When I was dead. The dust I kicked was bread in their mouths. Crutching their crotches while they went down south. Hiding their faces behind blotches. And showing their teeth before jumping on the bus. When I was dead. Freedom rose from my head. When I was dead.

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rage against the dying of the light... | thepoetical.blogspot.com Reviews

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Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, July 21, 2011. When I Was Dead. When I Was Dead. I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet. As they dragged across the heat. Tripping against music and beats. I danced when I was dead. When I was dead. The dust I kicked was bread in their mouths. Crutching their crotches while they went down south. Hiding their faces behind blotches. And showing their teeth before jumping on the bus. When I was dead. Freedom rose from my head. When I was dead.

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rage against the dying of the light... | thepoetical.blogspot.com Reviews

https://thepoetical.blogspot.com

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, July 21, 2011. When I Was Dead. When I Was Dead. I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet. As they dragged across the heat. Tripping against music and beats. I danced when I was dead. When I was dead. The dust I kicked was bread in their mouths. Crutching their crotches while they went down south. Hiding their faces behind blotches. And showing their teeth before jumping on the bus. When I was dead. Freedom rose from my head. When I was dead.

INTERNAL PAGES

thepoetical.blogspot.com

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rage against the dying of the light...: The Joke Of Vanity

http://thepoetical.blogspot.com/2010/02/joke-of-vanity.html

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, February 4, 2010. The Joke Of Vanity. Oh, my eyes. Made to watch themselves. And what I discovered. A pinch in the cheeks. Pulling last night’s face strings. Like a rein on time. Mutinous legs –. About their unerring loyalty –. What a time they chose. To make a brake. On what I would hold proud. If only they did. Then there is the mid-range. Melted through the fleshpots. Throwing back the heavies…. Then I remember the joy! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

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rage against the dying of the light...: It’s Not A Halfway Mark

http://thepoetical.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-not-halfway-mark.html

Rage against the dying of the light. Tuesday, December 28, 2010. It’s Not A Halfway Mark. It’s not a halfway mark. Where the end is within sight. It’s not the point where we decide. That the might of quarrel’s blight. Has diseased love’s light. It’s not a reason to stop and think. Of the whys and wherefores. Of the grating on our nerves. It’s not the season to say the things. That bring cries uncalled for. It’s the time to extinguish blemishes. By the brilliance of our unity. It’s Not A Halfway Mark.

3

rage against the dying of the light...: A Tokyo Rendezvous

http://thepoetical.blogspot.com/2010/04/tokyo-rendezvous.html

Rage against the dying of the light. Sunday, April 4, 2010. Meet me at a place. Where the nights shiver in neon flicker. Where the velvet skin of the night sky throbs. To the hops and panting of baggy-pants pop. Where hunter eyes feel up the city skirts. And pull their fun with them in taxi getaways. Meet me at a place. Where giant soup bowls float their spirits high. Where flawless slurps begin and end with sighs. Where emotions bloom with sating aroma. And the lunch people bow. Meet me at a place.

4

rage against the dying of the light...: Bruise berry

http://thepoetical.blogspot.com/2008/11/bruise-berry.html

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, November 27, 2008. Caving in to fool emptiness. Plant of apathetic tears. Fallen wet of colour. Down a feathered face. Never bothered, ever simple. Dimpled with moulded smiles and frowns. If there be smoldering days. Breathless ones that collapse with a bang. That’s when the fall is felt. Upon the very proud skin. And catching careless beads of rays. With eyes closed and looking within. The fodder fed man shakes. Along the beat of the heat. I am a pote.

5

rage against the dying of the light...: Pride

http://thepoetical.blogspot.com/2010/02/pride.html

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, February 4, 2010. I was born today yet again. Feeding my red nakedness. To rainbow-eyed music heads. Bobbing to pseudo beatnik beats. I feigned wisdom through a cunning mouth. That invented existing rhymes. And sang flowered songs. In a hungry flavoured voice. The twisted claps and lauding lips. I saw the invisible rising of hips. And the encouraging aroma of darkness-drips. I stood and smelt my incensed pride. So I let my happiness climb. A legend in my head.

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rage against the dying of the light...

Rage against the dying of the light. Thursday, July 21, 2011. When I Was Dead. When I Was Dead. I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet. As they dragged across the heat. Tripping against music and beats. I danced when I was dead. When I was dead. The dust I kicked was bread in their mouths. Crutching their crotches while they went down south. Hiding their faces behind blotches. And showing their teeth before jumping on the bus. When I was dead. Freedom rose from my head. When I was dead.

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