Every ScrapA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
Corb Lund, the prophet, speaks about the Bakken
the s**t explodes when it goes dry, that fountain the blank space once again, only an oblong prairie all polluted with petrol waste, just f*****g scary maybe the demented visions of poets and troubadours and yet when it comes apart, deaths come by the scores the basic survival skills don't exist within the lines called the urban, called the city, these are new times for all of us since we were in comfort and contended and now our yearnings for comfort are demented fighting for every scrap you can in the contraction and the sad truth, the only operation left is subtraction and in the decades to come there in all the Bakken the coming fallout will be the subject of all the talking
© 2014 Kenneth The PoetAuthor's NoteReviews
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6 Reviews Added on February 15, 2014 Last Updated on February 15, 2014 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..Writing
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