A pile of broken bones
And a sweet copper taste
Shoulda stayed at home
Coming out was a mistake
...
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A pile of broken bones! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Lovely expression, whatever inspires your writings are phenomenal
Also, I love the byline about having no recollection of writing it and simply seeing it in your notebook one day- I have a poem I wrote at purportedly twenty three that I do not have a clear recollection of writing at all. Strange mental experience.
Powerful intriguing poem- surprising, as I was gearing myself up for a " beach" at Brighton poem, this turns into a kind of gritty urban dirge of rabid dogs and is it speed snorting young boys? I can feel the strange sense of a beautiful place like Brighton, known for its spas and sands and baths, being taken over by a typical urban madness. Colorful and visceral. It makes me want to hide inside taking tea whereever I might be. Agoraphobia!
Thank you for your lovely and encouraging words! Means a lot to me. Have a great day.
" A small number of rockers were isolated on Brighton beach where they – despite being protected by police – were overwhelmed and assaulted by mods. Eventually calm was restored and a judge levied heavy fines, describing those arrested as " sawdust Caesars." " I, too, sometimes read some of my old poems and don't remember some. bri :)