4 November 2014

Dirty Boots

Dirty-boots

I’m nothing but a stranger in this land

of awkward gaits and twisted tongues

lost for a time, but now in season

this is the story of my return

.

these are the suicidal days of autumn

when heavy winds scourge the earth

and persistent rain bleaches the life

from sallow skinned natives

.

I’m a flightless bird, a drowning fish

a crock of broken promises

at the grey end of the rainbow

.

I’m a cesspit full of stinking lies

buried beneath the garden weeds

the distillation of crocodile tears

bittersweet and poisonous

.

I’m the product of excreta

spewed from angry mouths

a child birthed in anguish

and raised on baneful legends

.

incongruous momentum

sows havoc at my heels

the accumulation of oxidised dreams

red ochre are caked to my feet

heavy shit to scrape from my boots

.

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