The Rodes March

Reads: 325  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about the campus and dorm I lived and worked at as a resident assistant in college.

Submitted: December 15, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 15, 2011




The Rodes March


Blonds, Brunettes, Redheads and every shade in between

Gather in hoards of thousands upon my sweet home.

They march upon her breasts and lay in her bush

They violate her.


They move in packs, these girls, pretend women.

They drown themselves in fire water and light from the moon.

And they kill their minds with endless babble of penises and Greece.

They abuse her.


Stoop kids sit outside, rain, sleet, or snow in clouds of smoke.

They fill the air with their toxins and throw their buts at her feet.

Their loud voices echo in her heart and shake her limbs.

They defile her.


I watch them, the same kinds of animals every year

They come for freedom and get too much

They run where the wild things are

They loose themselves in her.


They awaken; smells of vomit linger in the air

They look back at the days of violation, abuse, and loss

They try to make amends, to study, to pray to which ever God they wish

But she swallows them and their money; second chances are lost on the young


My sweet home, renewed in the spring

The wild things tamed

No more abuse, violation, and loss

Until the young, wild things march again. 

© Copyright 2018 Morgan Lee. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: