The Last Island
Burning sand slithers down my throat
Only to bury what a dead man once wrote
Silver skeletons smoking with the priest of pain
How do you shame a peaceful love?
Islands made of giant raspberries
Ocean waves dance around our toes
Birds play in the dirt while I hunt the sun
Let the soldiers come to town.
I worry about the baboons drum
Yes the jungle is raped tonight
Tomorrow I might leave with a honey bees gold
A native memory I was to the prince of thieves
I missed the punch to your heart
Watch my dragons tail wipe your tears.
© 2017 Randle Allshouse Jr.