THE SILK ROAD

Too much is in style of steady rhyme

We don’t believe you

We don’t believe that it’s true

What you say about rye and woe

As you drink from your porter and glimpse

Through the glass bottom at the ass

Who follows you down the treated path

About the flame of your midst

Like moth on the flutter of cotton

Not silk coccon.

Eating from mulberry as on the Silk

Road to oblivion.

The Silk Path of bellbottom shangrila’s

Believing it is whole whereas it is part

Of the promiscuous age of passing.

Welcome to the homestead

Where we all have found that

It is just a home but a fleet of ships

Shall not surpass the doom

Of our Masters at Arms.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016

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