The world’s a picture
of dancing words-
waiting to settle into
fateful image on the page.
Jam
Seated,
broiling-
a traffic jam in
sweat,
heat, dust,
a noise cauldron boiling,
the sun brilliant-
grill above.
Light,
searing, a brand-
lance into the eye.
No where to go.
No where to run.
Trapped.
©GayUganda
3 comments:
Ugandan Faggot,
You are not only a lousy writer, but also an extremely uninspiring and deplorable poet. Where in this despicable blog is the famed artistry and talent of queer personalities?
I’m really disappointed. The level of your thought process is not worth my intellectual time in challenging your abhorrent lifestyle.
Pathetic, really just pathetic....
Hi Blake,
an angry Kenyan,. Thanks I guess.
Well, I am no Oscar Wilde, nor any of the celebrated Queer personalities. Just a poor, gay Ugandan.
Why do you hate us so much? I mean, you had not come across my hopeless poetry before, so I dont think that is what has attracted you here.
Why do you hate?
Love is such a vastly more valuable asset than hate. You can count it better, dont you think...?
@Blake,
Considering your own blog is a mere collection of epithets, I wonder what amount of intellectual time you would bring to this blog in the first place.
Post a Comment