WATERDOOM
Pulling through the muddied grounds of Vaduz,
cannon wheels stuck in scarred chocolate mousse,
Remnants of their former glory
abandoned in liveried chocolate boxes
Twisted ,untwisted, chewed and disgarded
childish fear for such a mentors measure
holy houses for the insane treasure
Mata Hari glorious risen
Powder black, powder black, powder black
red mists through powder black
Soon this the moments dread.
2007-08-10
08:54:29
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4 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry