You rubbed off a name from my wall.
I strip a tissue from your brain.
Today rain mocks time’s movement.
Sleep mocks coma.
Here I scratch a street.
There your Bible salesman seeks a door.
North of all music,
cold, my umbrella huddles with yours and listens
to a dying jazzman’s cigarette-hand.
You remove blue from my song.
I operate on the rest of the notes.
Sleep hiccups- good day,
and we dream- every soldier sings.
Every singer battles within.
Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
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listens to a dying jazzmans cigarettes hand. You remove blue from my song.
Just one of many excellent lines. Love this one, Kushal ~ ❤
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Loved the descriptve lines in your poem. Excellent, Kushal!
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Ugliness transformed into beauty.
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