In a Manner of Speaking
In a manner of speaking nonsense is the name
Of the wisdom you preach with thy clipped tongue
Your rusting roots where never planted,
In the prophets philosophy
As
Peace, Peace,
Peace endlessly departs your lips
Yet it has never descended,
Or embraced a soil
Embraced by wars dagger
In a manner of speaking you’re not a man,
Lesser TO of a man, she whispered to your fist
As her will scattered
Never to reunite or reminisce
The 4 letters of her once glorious
L
I
F
E
Copyright © Guy-Adler Dorelien | Year Posted 2011
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