Kona

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    Kona

    Head of the squadron -
    Paper fodder
    With a chemical itch.
    Arch-nemesis
    Feeding the season; treason
    Like a mechanical glitch.

    Top-down the dam leans,
    Seemingly feeble.
    A wandering beetle
    Saunters... For real -
    Loitering seagulls
    Shrilly ponder kills.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Psycler314’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    just lovin 0
    Kona 0
    e-choe 0
    Out 0
    slammed 0