Over the lips,
through the gums,
as I pull the trigger,
my shotgun hums.
Reverberation,
a sound of thunder,
his cranium explodes,
full-blown asunder.
Before I pump another round,
his body impacts with the ground,
and percussion abounds,
of an acoustical sound.
An opprobrium,
of connate aggression,
released from,
a single transgression.
I love you dad,
thanks for nothing...
it sounds like a nursery rhyme gone wrong.. i mean that in a good way.
Very fluid... You make death sound musical and beautiful...Free of fear and hesitation... Your poems are very lucid and your message is very clear. You are an excellent writer; Glad to have read you...you are right about the similarities... thanks, k
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you u are officulaay my favorite poet