Dwain Joseph Poems

Think around the verses sung,
The chorus screams loudest.
Shrill cries of agony that drip,
crimson blood, a wrecked soul,
...

No chance hope resides here.

While we all lay rotting like twigs,
...

It commences numb,

'I never say much good, ' You,
...

Those rotten bananas offend me.

They have lain motionless too long,
...

I stay murderer to my brothers

So my passion may be exorcised
...