the used

i said in open ground,
in a voice choked by reeling metal,
a snakes' path by slave hands made,
for tales from a far to me had come,
of an angel on a broken wing,
to a cursed land had landed,
and now on a leash live,
battered,
a black eye,
forced pirate look.
a soul too weak in defence,
swollen lips,
lost teeth,
a fairy never around came,
clots,
patches all over to tell,
a trophy used,
before men,
in linen soaked in paris extracts,
naive,
helpless no one to rescue,
knights eyes give,
solicitors of favours,
elders ears won't give,
cry customs forbid,
but i in injustice can't sit,
time to saddle up,
damned be customs,
that a man on a lady a hand raises,
stamp on said customs,
mediocre thinkers imagination made,
and such a queen shall i treat,
under candle flames,
in silver ware dine,
and music be played,
a band,
mexican panchos,
in spanish croon,
a soundtrack to my script,
a soap opera written in mind,
let ride this wildnerness,
to this call of distress answer,
to the direction of the suns' home,
lets race,
the used help need


©2011