Flying Rats

Flying Rats

A Poem by Mpotavin

I have become either pigeon or crumb,
mumbling sour in booze and sweat.
Sitting on a park bench
Aqualung my friend and muse,
have some cake,
get a job.
There will always be the elite
manicured feet,
and dirty rags to smear
my windshield.

 

Everyone is begging for something.

© 2008 Mpotavin


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Added on February 10, 2008
Last Updated on July 30, 2008

Author

Mpotavin
Mpotavin

Phoenix, AZ



About
I have stood before cameras and stage. Smiled or just screamed in rage. I have feasted and gorged, fasted and purged my soul balanced between darkness and light. I have held a man as he died, whispere.. more..