Bryant Ohara Poet Alliteration

The Drone's Retort

If I'm to be the neck
you fit inside a noose,
then spin me up a soul.

When you can define it -
and find it -
you let me know.

Until then, Mother-Father
fix your own malfunctions.

This universe
is your slaughterhouse.

I just work here.

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Rev. Gerald Dillenbeck April 12, 2015 at 8:43 PM Feels like your language is not just informed, but also inductively informating with my brain, which I am so glad is not illegal, and I so hope is not immoral. Interesting mind; interesting words and composition. And, with me, "interesting" is a very good thing. Bryant Ohara April 21, 2015 at 4:30 PM Thanks for good words, Gerald! I look forward to checking out your works as well.