Cure Poetry Disease
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 .
Joseph Nwakushabeni
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