Treasure Island

Madrason writer

(24-07-1967 / waalwijk netherlands)

Grow Sunflowers Into The Sky


It's just rimpling,
pimpling on the surface,
no storm, no danger
only grays beget the days,
find ways to make
all seem slower,
its the grower
in your head
that makes you dumb,
numb and sad
and it's true
that snipers do
crawl into you
like vipers,
grow sunflowers
into the sky,
-yesterday
you would have
asked why
they weren't there
before-
then you take
a nipple more
and break
heavens door
-you know damn well-
down into hell.

Submitted: Monday, April 29, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

What King Cool does to a fool or wise men.

-



30-04-2013 Madrason

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