Spray Cans

18 September, 2012

The Māorist

The Māorist pauses, contemplates The building, empty, near bomb blasted, Glassless, eyeless, majestic Germanic brickwork, soviet design Stretching far, on grounds, granit stoned, loveingly laid, for russian cans of death, tracks of steel The Māorist, plastic bagged weapons, in hand, walks Quiet, alone, Hissing of sommer cars, everywhere The concrete steps, bushes overgrown, Trees, in roof, lost from earth The Māorist going further, up steps, climbing Glass splitters, under rubber, crackling, Sound sharp, splitting crisp iced snow, Doors, half hanging, other trodden on floor Strength long lost Feeling of sadness, emptyness Longing, strong, for livelier days

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