ANCIENT HISTORY
WRITTEN BADLY
BY MY HAND
OF ENDLESS SADLY
MELTING TEARS
ON MARBLE FACES
WHERE AM I
IN ALL THESE SPACES
WORDS THAT TITTER TAT
ON PAGES
IN BETWEEN MY
RANTS AND RAGES
PHOTOGRAPHS
OF YESTERDAY
THE LIFE I LIVED
THEN THREW AWAY
SYLLABLES
LIKE NUMBERS COUNTED
SENTENCES
ARE FRAMED AND MOUNTED
MEANING THINGS
THAT BARELY MUMBLE
INTO SOUNDS
OF RHYME AND RUMBLE
Bobby Jameson June 2009
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