I'll write you a poem if you want but it wont mean ****
i'll paint you a portrait but it'll never hit.
stop all your ridicules, go join your rituals all you want to be lovers.
I'll paint when i feel i'm in my right, I'll write when my minds being destroyed for that's when i write best .
I have met the hipsters. They're boring just like the men on 5th. The real fun is with the stubborn hooded congress man in the brick building with the flowers. This hopeless town of phony's is getting old, someone make a statement something bold! i want refrase .. that's one thing the hipsters may do if they're not so busy buying so called hip shoes.
Lets go out and riot! its a lot better than sitting in a coffee shop being quite. Romes doing it why not us? oh yes of course what were doing to the air and people is no big fuss.
Have a good day whilst i ramble in my mind. I'll let you know when there is something i might find.
By Keone Friesen

I'll write you a poem if you want but it wont mean ****
i'll paint you a portrait but it'll never hit.
stop all your ridicules, go join your rituals all you want to be lovers.
I'll paint when i feel i'm in my right, I'll write when my minds being destroyed for that's when i write best .
I have met the hipsters. They're boring just like the men on 5th. The real fun is with the stubborn hooded congress man in the brick building with the flowers. This hopeless town of phony's is getting old, someone make a statement something bold! i want refrase .. that's one thing the hipsters may do if they're not so busy buying so called hip shoes.
Lets go out and riot! its a lot better than sitting in a coffee shop being quite. Romes doing it why not us? oh yes of course what were doing to the air and people is no big fuss.
Have a good day whilst i ramble in my mind. I'll let you know when there is something i might find.
By Keone Friesen

Hault! For ye who gazed with awe in the depths of humanity.
Hault! For ye who trims the roses of Eden!
Hault! For ye who resights in deep meditation on the top of reeds tower.
Hault for ye who called upon Al-Assad.
Hault I say for vincent lost his faith and so will you!
Hault I say for I love him yet her too!
Hault I say for this generation of ****!
Hault I say for all but one!.
My minds full of ideas
But surely you'll like none
Because they leave the chance of me becoming a helpless ***; for the politict who thinks all must be rich, I think you're a cowardly *****!
When the sun goes down, the moon must rise; and you say this is divine?
Dantes had it! Why should I not!?
Power and freedom is all I want
But to you man of the comittie, I'll do what I want- and I'll have no pity!.
By keone friesen.

In her eyes you can see death himself smiling back at you telling you a date. She has no clue i say in my mind, not but one clue!. She goes with him only wanting his eyes, they're bodies soon lay in **** sweat.
            The wind cooled off the room, and soon everything was quite. Hello? sounds a faint voice of a british school girl in search of her Rolling stone father. He left with cold war and the silence lasted long. Her tender eyes met his one day, old and frail. He died knowing she stood for everything she stood for; Love,hate,war,fight, *** and the slightest thought of Homosexuality, yes ADONAL Homosexuality.
         She walked the lonesome evening with the icy fear of death but it hit her other wise- she died hopping to find her old father humble and beautiful in the night. HEaven smelt of jazz and Claire de lune, the gods played Mingus for days and then some rock and roll, HA! devils music they called it.
         Where are we? and god said, you are in my hunting ground for bad men wanting the clouds. sure its a beautiful place but its hot here, its uncomftorable for me. Please believe me like all the other poor ******* who did. All those idiots and stupid folk queers, rapists, phycos , Negros and the Notorious white man himself… believe me. How else would you live without dying? this gives me comfort for all else is but a ******* lie and a promise i have made to you, i will not die? *******. Is this why we have religion? to comfort man from the thought of death?
       Stop breathing on me.

Oh Allen, the moment I read Howl I fell in love, Oh Allen the moment I read Kaddish I cried in beauty. Oh Allen the moment I read an article about so called beat poets I was content.
Allen for no man may ever be as beautiful as you. For no man may ever be as wise as you.
At night I sit reading obbsesevly over the big book named "collected Poems. 1947 to 1997, Allen Ginsberg.
Oh Allen for I love your gayness, oh Allen for I love your talk of obscenety, oh Allen for I love your poems which ring threw my mind during everyday caseual conversation.
I wish for that death could have delayed the taking of your beautiful soul, so we could sit down at Weeds cafe drinking coffee as we read 1861 by Walt Whitman. Or sit down in A new York Jazz club listening to A trio as we read each other's newest work.
When I daze in the light of the day I dream of you Allen. For some dream of ***,hourses or streak I dream of you Allen Ginsberg... I dream of you.

Oh young barret of the night. Who steals from the dreams of lost sain children like Moloch. The decrypted white house was nothing but A sanctuary for degenerates. the man… MAD… MAD was the man MAD, was the house, MAD were the claimers, MAD were the slaves to the slick but king of so called glam MAD was the man MAD MAD MAD.
           The barret was entering the house, leaving behind all. what has become of my young love asks me? he enters. MAD was he who entered the trap, MAD was he who allowed, MAD was who gave no warning of the moloch sacrifice being made to the two of his so called servants. MAD was all i say MAD MAD MAD, MAD was he who wanted to be hailed like Fernand, MAD was he who wanted to be king like Henry the 8th, MAD was he who wanted to use like Baron Neuvillette, MAD was he who wanted doll oh doll how can you do this.
          Oh ADONAL for if you do exist why have you allowed this, oh ADONAL for if you exist why have you for seen this, oh ADONAl for if you exist why have you told of my eternity. Oh ADONAL why? are you mad? for the people shall not say oh ADONAL well this blow over as fast as Holly or as fast of yourself.
        he who does as told, he who does what he thinks right for his so called gift. MAD for the betrayal of trust between the packed, MAD was he for the lack of word, Like a mute oh ADONAL like a mute he was! MAD was he who acted like Bromdens father, MAD .
      MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD is I for the envolvment of my cellar of time, MAD is I for what i have started and what have become of my creations, MAD is I for all, MAD is I for you, for she, for he, for *****, all mad, MAD is I for maybe i is mad.
                                                            ­                      written by Keone L Friesian. copyright to Keone Friesian

The night was smothered with jazz, cats walked the hallow passages which lingered the smell of dead poets and painters forgotten lore. the Raven has been lost! yells a man in the distance. where could you be oh raven of the night ? for i long for your tales. No posters nor searches for this lost Raven, its as if its been forgotten. Don't worry young creature of the night, ill find you and you will be king!….. all will hail the mighty Raven… all will hail the mighty Raven.

The night smelt of fire as the cool moon casted over the red rood forrest, mad men run free with the tigers, sane men run with the elk. oh lost love where could you be? the fire is pushing shadows amongst the dull curved trees playing deep illusions on my mind, sickening me time threw time.

I write for my strange obsession for the darkness that lingers from the Gallow of my mind.
I write for me, I write for you.
I write for the comfort it gives me, like a soft velvety hand but instead... A pen.
I write to see the night threw.
I write for the thoughts which would classify me mad in daily conversation but when it's poetry...... It's nothing but a poem.
I write to express my feelings when I'm longing for love or fear.
I write to hide from reality
I write to stay real.
For those who ask why I write I'll probably just say, I like to,
But for those who want to know the truth... I'll write it for you.

Blood fills the streets.
today a lost exile returned, cold blooded ****** he showed .
Dark shadows have casted and it seems we are lost.
will the sun ever shine again in the purple region?
it seems night has lasted for months.
SOFT ASYLUM he cried!.
i must leave, the the night but it seems…. i am lost.

She swims under the city of mad, like a dark fallen angel.
leaping into souls, awaiting to come out of exile.