Thursday, August 16, 2012

Morning creek

Fire flies and burnt memories ,
are what I have left.
And puffy clouds overhead,
that I draw my friends portraits in.
Savvy Sunday s and perilous,
thoughts the loss of flight.
Benjamin button Peter Rabbits pal,
were friends in my youth.
Angry Lion frightens no more,
now gives fuel for trees growth.
49 paper clips and steaming cup of soup.
30 travelers from Tibet,
seek asylum from bliss.

Never know always grow,
is what I'm screaming.
I'm just listening to Paganini,
sitting on the sidewalk jotting down the menu fir yesterdays lunch.
I'm not a Rhodes scholar, the chosen one.
I do not have a cross on the roof of my mouth,
I do not where the crown,
I do walk the fine line,
Between anything and everything else.
Sail from Carthage on the third, not having a reference point
Oh, you see things, too?
When did you know you weren't crazy?
My past has happened too many times,
my future not once, yet.
Dogleg golf pro does time for  assault on the lawn,
Mini men mighty mower
masogenistic pig











                                                                                                                                                                  

No comments:

Post a Comment