Non-Erotic PoetryGeorgie B Still Ain't Dead"Georgie B still ain't dead,"
midnight to eight mission man said.
"Sure as hell thought he was
or took a Greyhound bus because
he's always begging on Stuyvesant."
Jail was a bad boy who didn't like can't
whose cock fight left a ghostly sight,
red eyes pummeled black as night.
"One week dry," mission man said,
Death of the Hired Man in mind,
closest thing to a home he had,
and they had to take him in.
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Point taken, 1201; got too hung up on the rhyme/near rhyme format. Wasn't thinking. Changed on my hard drive. Too generous the 5 for such a glaring mistake.
Lit not letting me log-in.
5ed
black as night. ?
well
whose cock fight left a ghostly sight,
more than makes up for it.
Vivid
And compact story. I liked how it told a story succinctly but very visually. Nice work.
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