Kitchen MatchA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
the product of eleven and forty-one
is the level at which compressed, refined tree matter will become carbon ash, fragile blackness that crumples in the slightest breeze igniting a passionate fire in the fireman’s eyes, one that is truly emotional, bordering on spiritual, because knowledge is being destroyed, and future generations will not know the science behind the burn, which is ironic considering that suicidal wives can be brought back to life against their will, this is our legacy soaked in kerosene after all and it just take an elderly woman lighting a kitchen match to conflagrate it into total oblivion © 2012 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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4 Reviews Added on June 10, 2012 Last Updated on June 10, 2012 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.. |

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