Zhish Kebab | + Follow Poet |
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Smoke

I was born in a.45
With steady hand and a steely eye
I know my guilt, it's my disease
My soul is smoke and it curls with the breeze

I am the angel without wings
I know the pleasure and the pain it brings
I am the river, where flanks divide
I kiss the moon where day and night collide

Father of the burden that bleeds the sun
Brother of the shadows, barrel of my gun
The gentle killer, they call me here
I am the servant of your lonely fear

The ghostly roses, the symbol of
Beauty is eternal is the minds of those who love
Nothing lasts forever but when memories fade
We forget what we have lost and the difference it made

My soul; my sorrow
My soul; my sorrow
My soul; my sorrow
My heart; my shame

Copyright © Zhish Kebab | Year Posted 2015

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Leo Larry Amadore Date: 11/21/2015 8:10:00 PM A lovely and haunting poem, indeed, Zhish Kebab....and what an INTERESTING name; I would also have thought something like Baba Ganoush might have aroused some interest....hopefully, this piece is not a harbinger of nor comment upon any of the recent regrettable events.... Login to Reply