From: Quiet City

 

Childhood Lost


Strings of reason

like cold

spaghetti over screaming

silence. Old

hot flames end in

this, as time

rolls on nazi wheels

over ravaged

dreams

 

Hard Rider


Don't look the

horse in the

mouth so long

you see the

gift too late

to ride

 

Compassion


The blind see it....... The deaf hear it....... The dumb speak it......


© 1995 - Paul Elliott

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