Note to Self:A Poem by Logan CarryallSometimes you got to be legit in reflection.
Hey, Wear that rage, scumbag. In the bitter truth you had it all. Every last ounce of it. Down in the vestal fields, where the population carries out its perdition, you sat in the gardens starting fires. Eyes gleaming at the bean pole parade, churning your mocking laughter. You turned, and laughed at the growing things abound, as if supreme fore-seer of apocalyptic truths. “Your Vain, in vain, so vain…” Spitting out loud, summoning bile dawned wit. Certainly there is some thread. Crank comedy cases of boring s**t—mixing measures of consistent drips. Of course your pyre found the neighboring gardens, as yours had smoldered long ago. Where did your ashes sweep you forgetful thing? Your prophecy had been drawn ……and you count it as proof? Such a scientist. Damn Jesus of light is you. Envy is a deadly game friend. Your striping to nothing, gave nothing, took everything, as if you didn’t know. Spare your-self the scumbag. To now… Stumble lightly, friend, around the missing things that grow.
PS: And pick up milk. Were out. © 2008 Logan CarryallFeatured Review
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7 Reviews Added on August 19, 2008 Last Updated on August 19, 2008 AuthorLogan CarryallUpstate, NYAboutLogan Carryall is a young man who lives in the apple orchards of New York, New York. About ten minuets from the Hudson River, Logan drinks near barges and trains. The world seems much bigger without a.. more..Writing
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