By Lionel Fogarty
Old time Old love young world
No face many people are homeless
No lip many speak no sound
Old as no place in present sights
The cloud seen on grounded
Ready in show cold
Even have I own the turf
No big person at look
The house entry no streets
The trees are not flowering
They hug and seem enjoying
Blue wall brown the houses were
The white background hides the numbers.
No home was they live. Where’s the livings
Life eyes life lives own.
Play games no wars story fun there
Not a policy but two worlds
Pounded by redemption.
Bohemian modern man
Bashing the ray outer the ground.
The night swear a better day to wear sweet restfully
Roam raw prescribes
Where clans can’t write sanded minds the peoples hearts.
Super visions conduct
Powering the longest sounds unfound.
Democracy passages those
Councils made rich by
Laws dangerously cotted in federally