George Got His Gun
[ poem by Maximilian G. Wolf ]
Spilled gasoline smell and your view
Terrified - I can see from the metal cage.
How do water drops are kissing and flowing down
hanging around your blonde curls.
*
The thought, restlessness
sorrow, love, desperation ...
All that drills my skull and enters the brain.
Road, dream, tiredness, and fervor of yearning ...
I became a piece in the dragon's womb.
*
Crawling in the muddy universe
I'm rolling through the memories,
Hypnotized by your heels
as they leave the circle where I lie.
*
The tired rain is washing my consciousness
on the shore of a sleepy lake.
While through the bubbles of hope
love gets out the lake huge and slimy
and eats me hungrily and quickly
with the creaking tooth.
-----#-----
About the Creator
Maximilian G. Wolf
Dear All,
On my posts, you can find authentic contemporary love poems and short stories. All verses and stories are my original work.
-----
You can support my work. https://ko-fi.com/maximilian_g_wolf
-----
Keep reading
More stories from Maximilian G. Wolf and writers in Poets and other communities.
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen7 days ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy3 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.