The dim moon rumbles round the curtain;
inquishing ferros and terrors of dawn tales
flattering beneath and denut the roof,
in frightful soulful chat,
ambushing the figured chrome
rumbling with the mind! Soul
like tah chee raws
I evoked in darkness,
leeping through flesh,
in mimicked peeps of the figurines
quackling terrors of fear amidst;
the tauls of unrest in the,
guiltful heart of beings,
in remembrance of deeds of evil,
once and past done;
mimicking the flesh in self combat.
Being of none I am,
although being of thought,
as thought boers fright of fears,
indulging the truthful says of the heart,
The mind! To its sinful flesh
Berg of the Nation's pride we are;
/ out-gone for our navel with courage of anger,
/ thirst for mid-isolation we marched,
/ hunger for equality - we halt,
/ in de-exploitation coup we conch,
/ in ask of our independence want.
/
/ Patriotic troops we are
/ out-worn by the wrath of arbitatry seats,
/ out-worn sign in to read more »
2012-04-23
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