The End Poem by Tim Carlson
The End
Lieing lips,
Burning hearts,
For she does not know.
The pig has flown,
The blackbird consumed.
Able blacks
Subtle whites,
All the worlds a stage,
An actor is right,
Face behind the blackboard,
Long and gaunt.
I am cheery and glad
with my streak of pain,
The moronic square begins.
Breath and brace,
in the face of the stage.
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4/24/2024 12:28:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
