poetical sounds

when laughter echoes not far,
i know the mocking shall begin
and all the monkeys hid in the
distance rush forward to claim
their thoughtless prize hung
upon the trees… the pavement
jungle welcomes them in, swinging
from one lamppost to another,
flip and tumble the words they
juggle; the noiseless shield
begin to warp and crumble as i
too slip into the chaos as swords
cave in…. until i am spent, and
no dollar or cents can send me
out on the subway from here, i
keep you close, lay low, until
we can make a run for it

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About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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