Stranger's Strangled Cry

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Stranger's Strangled Cry

Weeping soared through the tortured air
I could not tell the direction of the sobbs and wailing  
But the sounds of anguish i could hear

I wondered what would cause someone to bare their soul, 
so openly for all the world to see
I know that when i am feeling the strains of life,
My scars I bury oh so deep

But the weeper weeped, belly and soul within
Strangled crys that i could not ignore
I turned around, to find the source of the pain
No luck yet but I could not refrain

I got up and walked all the way to the back stand
One look at her sad little face, and 
With some relief i finally could understand 

I would cry forever too, if this had happened to me
Her pet rat was dead in her hands, as dead as can be. 

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Aioka’s Poems (7)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Stranger's Strangled Cry 0
Don't Give Up 0
Moving... where the grass is greener! 0
Gratefl Billy 9
Vapour 0
The End 0
Wicked Stranger 1