Motley Poetry

Transcendence Leanne O Connor Desmond Autumn falls in folds around my feet Bodies beat back the sweet sounds of Degradation, an alien Nation rises from the Earth built on the toil of our ancestors. Whispers carried through the fog-drum-beats Long lost, we dance to the rhythm of our Mothers’ syllables. The lonely lullaby of The night, tattooed scripture in her lungs Screaming for recognition, the … Continue reading Motley Poetry