The Old Poppy Cutter
A Poem by Jim Nasium

The old poppy cutter
slices flowers in the morn
silent sounds of screaming
as opium is born
way out in the middle
of a place called nowhere
there is nothing but silence
my voice has echoed there

Belligerent and cocky
numb to other's feelings
red blood flows from my arm
nasty habits start revealing
I wear a very special hat
it keeps me safe from the storm
smoking the breath of the dragon
the opium den is safe and warm...

©2004 Jim Nasium

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