Every Panic Tell
Every panic tell
A drop of trust is left to bleed
The transfusion is incomplete
Danger coming come
And then in an whisper recedes.
It was only rumor of his coming
I was not surprise
History is a movement of feelings
The way on enterprise dominates another
I think the market forces has quite
Worn their predictability out
The Mayan calender of twenty twelve
Is also a muted mouth
Someting is consolidating though
The beast about to be transformed
There will be no more bleating
Science cusping the reborn
Old habit
I just love looking up at the sky.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment