Lily says I talk too much
and scoffs the word-trip with
know-it-all and get-it-all,
caffeinated hazard.
Now I know Dick's preamble
means comfort for the twisted,
but the rouge on his lips
is a different shade of pink
than the stain on his *******
We're zenith straight and waiting,
the mind is cut in quarters,
here I am, a merry song
of Arvo's mirth and Mansell's
death; quit loathing,
the man is breathing.
Newton's god is clock-work,
balderdash predestined, dumb
by Aristotle, fixed Zeno third-up finding,
a paradox perpetual,
and me, I'm just dumb-founded.
And then there's the cat.
Surely, he must be dead.
But I'm still bearing two minds,
and Achilles hasn't won. The qwiff resides,
the turtle moves,
again the rambling tongue--
is made of one, but now cleft in two.
Or several!
Surely, surely,
he must be alive.
Pandora, just open the box.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
Lily says I talk too much
and scoffs the word-trip with
know-it-all and get-it-all,
caffeinated hazard.
Now I know Dick's preamble
means comfort for the twisted,
but the rouge on his lips
is a different shade of pink
than the stain on his *******
We're zenith straight and waiting,
the mind is cut in quarters,
here I am, a merry song
of Arvo's mirth and Mansell's
death; quit loathing,
the man is breathing.
Newton's god is clock-work,
balderdash predestined, dumb
by Aristotle, fixed Zeno third-up finding,
a paradox perpetual,
and me, I'm just dumb-founded.
And then there's the cat.
Surely, he must be dead.
But I'm still bearing two minds,
and Achilles hasn't won. The qwiff resides,
the turtle moves,
again the rambling tongue--
is made of one, but now cleft in two.
Or several!
Surely, surely,
he must be alive.
Pandora, just open the box.
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