deepundergroundpoetry.com
Washing machine
It's a choice where all choices belong.
Try taking a step back into time,
where all rhymes,side by side, refrain combined.
A pot of gold awaits.
Normal thrones seek insightful metaphors,chill the bones.
What more can they ask for.
Streets retreat every which way it can.
Now do you understand what the white man said.
Promising a bed,to the misled tired eyes,tired of crying each lifetime,for what wasn't his fault.
For their sins, they face the brutality of the Police marching on rotten corpses,
Still there from the 20th century.
Gene's in the washing machine.
Soapy water.
Don't believe words.
©SukiSushiCrown.5-10-2023
Try taking a step back into time,
where all rhymes,side by side, refrain combined.
A pot of gold awaits.
Normal thrones seek insightful metaphors,chill the bones.
What more can they ask for.
Streets retreat every which way it can.
Now do you understand what the white man said.
Promising a bed,to the misled tired eyes,tired of crying each lifetime,for what wasn't his fault.
For their sins, they face the brutality of the Police marching on rotten corpses,
Still there from the 20th century.
Gene's in the washing machine.
Soapy water.
Don't believe words.
©SukiSushiCrown.5-10-2023
Published 5th Oct 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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