March 24, 2016Bioman, Poem, Poet, Poetry, The Daily Writ, Uncategorized Leave a comment The Colour White Like a stroboscope you bleed The colour white as you spin from The end of the rope you have spun Yourself, of cord not Useless but pertinent to our Faithful pull on the cantilever Section that hung you. I will be then and now the seated Victim of your threat and that Means against you H T and that means you. Copyright B E Saunders 2016 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...