deepundergroundpoetry.com

Motion

That was the game
 
to hustle a black globe
teaching natives
how to maintain
or face blank bullets
 
I’m unsure after all this time
if the gun existed at all,
if my fingers pushed, pulled
clicked a release.
 
Bodies lay strewn, angular
stark ribcages against torn flags,
ageless wounds of wreckage.
 
There was no sick bag
on my final flight.
24601
Written by 24601 (John Brady)
Published
Author's Note
26/30
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6 reading list entries 2
comments 4 reads 84
Ahavati theEgoEffect
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SUGGESTIONS
24th August 2019 00:10am by Tallen
POETRY
23rd August 2019 11:46pm by Calligraphee
SPEAKEASY
23rd August 2019 11:37pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
23rd August 2019 11:35pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
23rd August 2019 11:07pm by _boybrains
SUGGESTIONS
23rd August 2019 9:54pm by Ahavati