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patrick-michael-morris
Scottish Glasgow to Alabama to Nigatta. A little bit of France and too much Russia.
Listen to me? Please don't ! Why? She asks; Behind the doorway Is the hanging balance of Love. I'll take you gently, a walk across the floor Wrestle you lightly up against the door Then simmer down, to the Downs upon a horse **** me gently in the black side of your heart Good God it's Monday! I wan't to die she cries And falls out kicking on her - Friendship needs a motive; sweet love It's Alibi Hey, **** me gently in the black side of your heart
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Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
**** me gently
Oh the girl in the sun Withered in the rain All the thoughts that we shared Moved me to cry And though I know That I still love her; All we said of honesty was Really just a lie. I won't eat the crumbs From your lover's table I won't sit by and watch them fall
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
The Girl in the Sun
I remember dark warm nights of love When you were nothing more Than a trembling shadow in my arms For I was strong from years of reformation I suppose I sat upon your knee too long Or ****** too full the poison of your mother breast Now my rainy day: a yesterday's nothing And no one to take this tomorrow from my lips I thought the moon sad until I saw the Sun cry For years He hid his face away And though you snakelike Coil and crawl, I won't step on you Because you bit me once in love.
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Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
I Remember Dark Warm Nights Of Love
Staring at the family photo album This one; this one is almost empty But contains most of the memories That were best forgotten Because Tears don't make good pictures Tears Don't make good pictures And I'm still crying so Don't take any pictures The family that prays together tears itself apart The young boy in the corner cries himself to sleep Each one turns round in question Receiving no reponse Another come my love sweet love and much disorder Shall I be a pram-pusher myself? And even though I know I should be dead already The dancing night itself is not through. Here stands the family.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
The Family
Her whispy straw-like hair Strange green eyes that never rest A smile no artist could ever paint A frown to suicide a saint Her voice fresh water that she never drinks Her measured distance covers what she thinks Laughter so human it inspires God And sends Him back to work Whilst she is unemployed She's a taker; She's a mover; she's a doer And what she gives makes charity cry Her pride is rarely spoken loud She's not comfortable in a crowd But she drinks in others As they drink in her; She is blind where they don't care. Her whispy straw-like hair transcends despair Like only a Russian knows how; Balanced compassion with a violent passion But what light in those still hoping eyes
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
An Ode to A Hamster
Plundering corruption A boy an apple from a tree Son you know that is wicked Come on, and follow me. You saw that strange fruit growing The poor a hanging from a tree Let's sing another song boys Call it US democracy I free all kinds of good boys In my old boy kinda way From tyranical oppression To the kinder Gentler me And I say you must reform now To our ever wanking little whim Chairman Bush is on a roll now Thinks he's facking Chairman Mao.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
The ****** of The Reformation
A ***** allergy to cast me out of Hell A sneezing like coming from the brain Nine times in a row as I left her in the snow For something I'd lost A long, long time ago. The girl was sick and pregnant; sweating and sore Her doctor was a humble, kindly man He often drew on marijuana Left her on the table And left God to decide Upon the sinews to reveal Better not to propagate the table Not to operate. The swindler has a most convincing way With your children well before they're born He's in your pocket before your first ******** Bleeds your first wife's last abortion. And sings on high it's time to fly Time to leave the foster mother's frigid icy nips Write off your wan crapulous ten year plan Tom no more like tigers on the tactile plain But join the orphanage in its raw and biting pain Time to go back to a savage civility That crucifies the sane with kid gloves and contempt Chanting bold and blasphemous and oh, so democratic! When Christ was always my dictator
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC
A Time To Leave
What quality would guarantee your smile? Admit such symmetry of beauty! What God upon his knees Would not be broken, When a bite, More than a kiss? So what if I dance with deamons? It is my demonstration of love, In a world that pities death, There's not muchleft at all. If you have gone forever, Well unto a longer, higher brow, Then despite my cravings I must dance with you no more. And yet, I still crave you From the carvings of the cave, Where you left all imagination Lost and wand'ring Without answer, In the hobo of the Soul. Are you kinder than a jealous God? Lost home and Goverment? What God upon His knees, When he is lost to you?
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
What God Upon His Knees
I have come to love a boy at last A dandylion son, born With an arrow in his eye On that first day of battle A willing child at the helm To steer me through the darkness of blind old age.
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Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
I have come to love a boy at last