Inanimate Praise
cold has no time, motion has no voice
and it has been so long since the stones
cried out in the open fields. hardened
still cold stones whose only reflection is
to bruise all flesh.
graveyard vulgar granite lips have little faith.
so the eulogy goes something like this.
he was always such a good drunk
when empty bottles around him went clunk.
happy as piss in a jar that is a wishin
some raise a bottle others just miss him.
Copyright © Nathan Martin | Year Posted 2010
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