Any old Iron

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Art

    Any old Iron

    See through Zions, and mellow Lions can always tell when an igloos been crying.
    Its not a joke, and I don't mind dying, but if you see no smoke. It does not that mean we're not still frying.
    Now, if your minds made up and you forgot what you're denying. Then go on and fill that cup with all the love that needs supplying. 'Cause when wheels start rollin', whatever is ruling in your knowing. You better keep on growing what is tickling what your flowing.
    The dream is real. We can make it if we heal. No one really tells us how to steal.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    utopianblag’s Poems (1)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Any old Iron 0

    utopianblag’s Friends (2)