Fronts Poem by Francie Lynch

Fronts



Heretics.
Bolsheviks.
Lunatics.
Kleptomaniacs.
All fronts.
Pretend fronts as
Friendly
Guises to disguise
Wiley acts of terror.

All tics like
Parasites
Stealing and sucking
Fleas on festering
Flesh.
Breathing carrion breath.

Why inject your
Games with ungainly success.
Why such primitive
Unleashing of frustration
And regressiveness.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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Francie Lynch

Francie Lynch

Monaghan, Ireland
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