Mend

Mend

MEND

 

   

The guns merry mend,

The gong weary mend,

The voices wail mend,

The pen sail mend.

 

The guns cry louder than the voices,

fun for flesh birds,

ready to swoop,

While they stand in poise.

The wall collapse and mend was the noise.

 

 

The guns merry mend

The gong weary mend

The voices wail mend

The pen sail mend.

 

The voices wail weary,

sadden by the guns,

drums storms the cloud in travail,

prepared for a sullen wreck, for maggot funs.

Suddenly the air crack,

and mend was the heat of the sun.

 

The guns merry mend,

The gong weary mend,

The voices wail mend,

The pen sail mend.

 

The pen sails, merry,

never disturbed by the nails;

dozens of toilet paper signed to clean the anus of a bad news,

fallacy decorated in palatable mails.

The gong sends the mail,

mend is not to fail.

 

The guns merry mend,

The gong weary mend,

The voices wail mend,

The pen sail mend.

 

One day I saw an old carpenter,

hitting an old rusted nail,

in an old broken chair;

I asked him what he was doing,

he said that the chair needed mend.

I told him that he can’t mend an old broken chair,

with an old rusted nail, but should make it anew.

However, he insisted that the old fashion,

is worth the mission, and that it most surely mend.

 



5 thoughts on “Mend” by aceDprodigy (@1prodigy)

  1. I don’t get.

  2. They have come again!!!

    1. Looooooool!!!!!

  3. Sunshine (@nicolebassey)

    We do need new wineskins for new wine,
    thanks.

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