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Cure Poetry Disease

Joseph Nwakushabeni

I bleed in lines , frazzled in the moon .
The burning cold in the water's ,
It keeps the mind in foucs ,
I bleed in blue , black ,red I lose my pen .

Broken water's , in the sea ,
Rusty dusty pink,
Holmes I wink .
Grazing the lands of Jerusalem ,
I cure no soul ...

Deep in dawn house , north side ,
South ,my home ,I head ....

Mountain's in the high Cliff's ,
I dig , I dig .......
Stones in rusty soil ,
Cure of Poetry in dusty rocks .

(C) Joseph Nwakushabeni
02/13/2019


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