The stream (all workshops)
You couldn’t really call him homeless. He always felt comfortable where he was. Always able to sleep well on any given surface.. He never considered something as cliche as ‘the city is my home’. No, he just never really considered having a home. This is how he wanted to live, without any connections or attachments. He didn’t even dream of having anything more. Real dreams. Sleeping dreams. Not aspirations. Hell, he didn’t even want respect. There was no talking to strangers or introductions.
I told a friend to look behind his back
He turned round to see a cripple crawling
then jumped and ran to nearby side track
because he thought a car was approaching
We laughed to see the fear on his brow
The lame was angry by our reaction
He picked some stones all set to throw
We explained it was not our intention
to mock or make a jest of him by that
but to let our chary friend step aside
as he wore a comical mammoth hat
and couldn’t see a thing from either side
This turned out to be a very big gaffe
she can be broke sometimes
but when she's good she's great
she switched up my realities
and broke the garden gate
caged in like an animal
she broke out like a storm
polite enough to say goodbye
though she never met the norm
some things aren't understandable
like her pain at its worst
i'm waiting for the day when she screams
man, that fucking HURT!
i never can get anything
how does she deal with me?
i know i get annoying
barking up everyone's tree
It's at a time
when I refuse to check my mail
so I can be surprised
by my TIME subscription
list.
I wait for the boy to snore
some more
so I'll have something
other than myself
to ridicule and bemoan.
The time I sit
till I sink in
the crater my bottom
makes on my bed;
And I see how naturaly I dent
All that was comfy and right.
The times we watch
the seconds tick
and wish we were
like time -
Listen to life sing, what a beautiful thing
As the wind whispers secrets to her sisters
Rivers flowing, as if they love not knowing
Oh, fuck the best in me, leave that to destiny
I want to exist like leaves and the air that breathes
I’ll fly with sparrows ducking bows and arrows
Oh, I’ll seduce the night as I welcome first light
No authority, only a soul to set free
To weirdelf Cheers Mate
were there
no more
depths
where wavelegth echo
touchs
the lovestarved thought
buried in liberty doubts
where there
no more quests
fulfill the fear of sanity
rusting in sunbleached sands
songs cast in dreaming
against the baby grand
this halo of bright
falling like snow
the spirit of sight
I hold onto what
ghosts we are
I will kill especially you
Kill you, Kill you, Kill you, Kill you, Kill you,
death by Iambic Pentameter
I will definitely kill you
Kill you, Kill you, Kill you, Kill you, Kill you,
death by Trochaic Pentameter
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
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