{Diary Of The Southern Queen Entry #6} {His Rhythm} 

 

 

 

His rhythm of

his songs played

like the sickest

twisted dead of a

deafening whistling 

whisper's through

the cold northern

lights that only

the animals could

hear that kept

them howling

by the bay from the

amusement of his

meaningless song

that continues to

play his sickened

twisted deadline

songs as his

whistling whisper's

never seems to fade

away that is stuck

here trying to be

released back to

the underground 

world where he 

came from that

will never be

free because the

whole world is

trying to sleep

without hearing

any peeps from a

bull~headed bloke

that never seems

to just choke 

 

 

 

 

 

©One_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina Glover 12/09/2017 all rights reserved