The hair on your ass is not Shakespearean
The tiny balls of fluff are neither divine nor demonic…
Your body is a cretificate of qualitifcation!
A diploma…passing the student of language!
*
Drinking whiskey the middle aged man
falls asleep on his chair
hanging there like some dead corpse
or spastic only to be awoken by his son
at 4 in the morning…Go to bed Dad your nearly 50.
*
A series of disconnected poetic suggestions
reveal the energy necessary for the cause
but show a distinct lack of direction…
Primarily focused on the playful
At the minute a collection of moments
hideous really…strange how base
and dishevelled form has become
a kind of mental debacle
*
The school is a large tebernacle
Academic Supermarkets stocked up!
Learning now a thin spreadable paste
over the mind sticky tape a
common denominator…median
in the Mediterreanan…
*
Everyone reduced now to base metal.
Even the Alchemist has forgotten his duty
and injects a little herion into the veiny
and finds the ultimate rush pass
through entire physiology
‘Screw Gold!’ He shouts.
tourniquet all loose
umbilical chord
Mother Earth
Whored and Slapped out
*
O get the Fruedian violin out
weep weep weep for love
love shall conquer Worlds
love shall call to the neighbours!
love shall calm itself down and
love shall speak in hushed tones
content with its own making…
Another lively and flowing poem - keep 'em coming! 