Clock

Crisscrossed stitches,
Lusting the needles thread,
Caressing the distance,
Between the living dead.
Hand in hand,
Lips to lips,
Time sings candles,
Drip drop drip.
These sticks move in silence,
In there circle of malice,
Counting the numbers,
Verbs and nouns so callous.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Mister Roboto Avatar
March 11, 2011 at 5:52 PM
Justin, You got it going on Is this about playing Drums?.You Have to be a songwriter! If you want more people to read...TRY: Naming the Specific style of poem it is. Even if you don't know, guess, or better, look it up. They list them on this site. You have raw talent. No B.S. Man/ Check out my stuff. Some of your content matches what I write about. You are more of a Lyricist, while I am just pretty random...I have been messing with writing songs now though. Good Luck. ~JS Lambert
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