3
homeless with guns at my side and on my back
armed for the attack of police and high society
woodsmen tired of the built in deceit of a concrete world
eats flesh burnt on a fire I built
wild onions, strawberries, and crayfish
don’t care if the world burns
it isn’t mine to begin
people are cruel, cruel
logs for fuel
fire away fire sticks
a cave woman would be welcome
I have a Bible belt
Copyright © Gun Poet | Year Posted 2014
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