darkpoetry
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There is a monster, Creeping up behind you now; Its name: Memory. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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The taxman’s at a loss, His figures don’t match when we Pretend that we’re dead. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Wake from fever dream, A hand caresses my cheek, Death has come at last. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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My hopes and dreams, like Cloistered lambs to the slaughter, Shuffled, squeezed, breathless. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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With Autumn comes death, Green turns into golden brown, Nature’s slate wiped clean. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Childhood cruelty, To watch its corpse limbs wriggle, Pulling crane fly legs. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Flying geese on high sing their freedom call, while we toil away below. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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This is no country For the old or young. Reserved Only for the rich. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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The world rolls on by. Plans are made as I sit here Feeling emptiness. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Coinage passes through Greedy palms like greased lightning. Always needing more. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 