Finally, a Will

poem about legacy
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So childlike
I can’t be like love, like that
Strength, yes
The heirlooms passed down from fathers
To sons like sparks given to an anvil
From hammers
Greatness laughs
As a child, measuring nothing
But the length of its own shadow
While running
The darkness on the ground is
The same as above,
made more beautiful
By the sun that passes down
What it does


more by LORD BISON

check out: That Golden Woman – A Spoken Word Album by Lord Bison

visit: Lord Bison’s Blog

photograph by Inbal Marilli


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Lord Bison

Jazz-soaked spirit running circles around despair...or something like that. Really. Lover of words, lover of being in worlds New Yorker, artist, Virgo besieged by airhead tendencies akin to Libra moves. Bronx is home base. Began an obsession with writing at seven and twenty-odd years hence, still at it. Enjoy/love/hate/be bored/appreciate to your heart's content. Or something like that.

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