What art thou running to? or running from?
What are thou searching for? looking behind
closed doors of thine mind? What is it thou
dost seek to find? Dost thou lend thy skin
as a suit to another, warming one on injured
dog days, and rainy cat nights, like me, dost
thou hath any idea of things to come already
in sight. Art thou polite? to elders, the ones
who birthed thee, the ones by the creator's
hands hast put thee in them as sprouting
seeds. O' vague humanity, thou dost search
for scraps, killing and dealing to get a quick
buck, forgetting adoration, monkeys now
thy God's because the elite pushed the stuff.
Dost thou never get enough? Adoration is
lost, lusting sensation the norm, O' earth
get ready for the red dawns storm.
©lonesome poets poetry