THE LIFE THAT LENT ITSELF TO POETRY, AND FELL OFF ETERNITY'S TREE.
Tony Mochama, "Underwear Grows Old"
Sunday, April 5, 2009
She strums Like her snaky fingers were meant for no other than her guitar, While she sucks in the air In a way so divine then lets it all go In rhymes that marry her wailing guitar So faithfully and So truly..
so truly that her tears flow;
tears that are her soul’s dew thawing away Washing, cleansing and bathing her..
Eroding away the muck that describes her life.
The beats remain the only drug that her troubled world knows and understands