The stream (all workshops)
Hooters, phallic symbols and toilet humour
you may think me base and crude when I say
That i have-observed the down right sexist to the
Utterly lewd in our language
.They call breasts ta tas, they call them hooters
tits, boobs and puppies, they even give them names
Sometimes call them the twins
I have also taken note that society loves a good fart joke
And others of that ilk,
Even the most refined love toilet humour
“three pages
down
and eight beers
to go. hmm…
i drink alone
because i sing
secrets…
three and a quarter pages
down
and seven beers to go.
Bitch.”
'what?
k, i'll try.'
Fratricidal war ravaged our terrain
The budding heroic patriots died
Pipelines exploded, many were fried
Then flushed down the public drain
Horrors which were seen by warriors
In the melee for self determination
Also by victims of national damnation
Were the departed unsung saviors
Our struggle brought new songs
For freedom and independence
To secure our continued existence
We celebrated with flutes and gongs
An agitated restlessness fills me,
slowly, slowly, it gently kills me
I see the violence, I hear the cries
Why, oh, why
Do good things have to die?
They say at first there was darkness
then God filled the world with light
and that heaven is a real place
where there's no fear of night
They say we're made in God's image
They call us Humankind
They say we came to love the world
But we're mean, self-righteous, blind.
grids take
doth blood make
this scourge of fire
wreaking fire
trancending the madness
howls like night sirens
and then the eerie
silence
no dogs bark
as God watchs
generation full of scars
where nothing is bulletproof
for far
easy to trip on the empty
cartridges in the dark
dare make a sound
and be the mark
Keep me earthbound
You are my gravity
Without you
I fly into empty
Space
Your love holds me
In this place
Like being tied
With soft gentle
Lace
Even when
I am far away
I can feel
the power of loves
Embrace
The distance
Is but a word
where ever I look
I only see your lovely
Face
The strength
Of your discipline
Has given me
Understanding of true
Grace
Let my gnarled hand enfold yours in mine
on this clear winter day so fine
and we'll traverse this wooded trail
just as we did when I was hale.
Even when the winds blow cold
as long as I have you to hold
my heart retains a well stoked fire
ready to kindle with desire.
We've been down so many trails together
too often in the worst of weather
on paths that were stoney and rough.
I'd think that you'd have had enough.
She lay beneath a barren tree
dead, exsiccated in an instant,
as the lake
that we once waded through
to reach her.
We attended the wake together
holding hands
and wanting to kiss
but not.
We each gave our sympathies
not with words, but strange dialogues
gazing upon her parched body,
close to each other.
After, you took me to the tree of life,
barren, but not dead:
still glistening
in such oppressive heat,
with life to come.
Sir, license and registration
Of course officer
let me get my documentation
You were going a hundred in an eighty
Well, officer let me explain
I found a new hobby as of lately
Now, I think you’re intoxicated
Officer, I must disagree
Someone had to be eliminated
Are you admitting to a crime
Well I suppose I am
It got too easy after the third time
Please step out of your car
Yes, let me open the trunk
Would you like her pieces from my jar?
barbers
and bartenders
talk
to you
not
at you
letting you
let it
on out
sometimes
I sob
and mewl
for a tug
of an ear
or a shave
of a fool
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