Traces Of The Field And The Clouds Poem by Christan Bowen

prepare said the devil today
before god I will get my way
and you to buckle
and taste my knuckle
a shirts button
will be my mutton

I will devise
a way to rise
and king the earth
for what its owth
perth will throne
I will right
the wrong
by going on
my own voyage
without permission
or corsage
and I will belt a song
to never belong
to an earth
now gone

I will see a wife of fire
and not know love
or desire
I will mire myself
in the wishing well
and blow kisses
with the breath of hell
and i will make bones
into trophies
and i will seize
the only thing i want
a cemetery
that haunts