Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

earth
our evil home
ball of bones
unpaid loans
a Twilight Zone

birds over the river
fifty times forbid
to be anything
but a giver

be quick
be rooted
measure love by tonnage
every day option of rapture
mind, imagination, & soul
a hushed silent sanctum
expanding hour by hour

we're on a train
we jumped at birth
no need to mourn
just ride & ride
our own private prophets
paying onward with poems

Bravo!!!

agree with mr. wire!

good one, the mingo

The Wireman & judih - appreciate it

You had me at 'ball of bones'..

Thx mnaz - appreciate it

superb...

I like the quick beginning of this poem, and with poems carry on.

Thx, saw - appreciate it

Thx, Craig - appreciate it