George Samuel

Countless my ink may fall
Like droplet upon whited wall
Bring my thoughts from my soul
And stain the ages scroll
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To the field to the field
While it rained sowing till there's yield
Unto toil and our seed
Giving all as the earth has need
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It is morning fresh first of it kind
A newly made day its called a Monday
Heaven was made by words from his mind
It is the second day a Tuesday
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Come quietly
Come singing
Come whispering
Oh come shadow come
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Lofty love
Why in cruelty slay my solitary soul
And disguise thy act like some sent above
Let low I'm so empty full
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Why not join us, we wear rags,
And beg and brag;
Proud of our jobs,
We don't belong to forbs;
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Silence warm the tomb '
When the quake is numb;
And the soul gone.
Now, the bones are alone.
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Love pass me
Leaving nude town
Not too many three boys paring
Mute empty bars
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Lead us to the mountain where we decide our Isaac not a worthy sacrifice
But consider it a token of a fat full burnt offering
And in our filthy hands thou wouldst not
We do not deserve the burning of thy divine ram
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Childhood is history
Teenage life is temporal
Adolescent final territory
Three anniversaries live a ceremony
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What can I eat anymore but crumbs
Remnant of unfair cruel wars
Oh heaven give me a piece of word this trash
This was a television screen I see
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On the subway sand
The crawling train rolled by the railway groaned
Mellow willow blowing dusty air to trees beside
Gently keeping a slow pace tide
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Set the tables
Breaking records marbles
Held history face on high
Tracks enables fame far and near
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Touch me gently
Pass not so quickly
By eventide peaceably blow
And upon my sunbathed skin tarry slow
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Wild wind rush bye
And make the trees say what they say
They pick momentum
Shake off the dead in them
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Strong word of the night
You let me leave with a fight
Walk alone in the cold
With a flower in my hand
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Lost to tempest
Lost to storm
Lost to rainbow and rain
Lost to sunshine
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We do not think again
When love turn in vain
And we find the cupboard with forbidden skeleton
The truth which was abandon
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Watchman watchman
Beside the gate side wondering for alms
Observing with mixed disdain
Every man from soul to toe
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On the sun
We shall work and wither
Under its rising under its going down
Its shining hotness giver of fever
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