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ashby-brownPoems
Simplistic majestic magician That weaves cloth Of nothing that is supposed fine Round about fanatics With no one around But the mechanics We are the lost age With no sage but the voice Of a 70's page We revolt against Nothing But the sins of common human torture Could it be? Could it be? That we have reached a modern Utopia washed over with numbers and bummers? "Eee gad!" screams the man "Too bad!" says the unclad band "So sad!" says the rest of the pickled sand Young reefs bubbling in a restless wheeze Torture awaits the man that sits in ye' pasture Time is no friend of yours or Mine Bricks break faster then the heart does For they build buildings Where hearts can break Inside themselves As doves shatter in winged' flight All the while blinking alone In the blankness of the starry hot night Ohh Demetrius that awaited a party That never got started Because he believed it was cool to be tarty Too see is to See What your head Wants to believe Another night past round the blast Where Chicago blistered bleakly And the lights were turned right out Out and fast and out and cast Fish a' bleedin' orange Orange and rocky sands A letter opened itself To a lover that did not Want to feel or see She read it out loud To the pitch of a sound She never meant to reach Imaginary sentimentalists That persuade themselves That they are no man Nor hold no Robotic hand They are The children Of the Evolution Evolution. What a silly Bourgeois Excuse To me Tis' just another excuse To fend off The Noose
0
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
Orange Rocky Sands
Simplistic majestic magician That weaves cloth Of nothing that is supposed fine Round about fanatics With no one around But the mechanics We are the lost age With no sage but the voice Of a 70's page We revolt against Nothing But the sins of common human torture Could it be? Could it be? That we have reached a modern Utopia washed over with numbers and bummers? "Eee gad!" screams the man "Too bad!" says the unclad band "So sad!" says the rest of the pickled sand Young reefs bubbling in a restless wheeze Torture awaits the man that sits in ye' pasture Time is no friend of yours or Mine Bricks break faster then the heart does For they build buildings Where hearts can break Inside themselves As doves shatter in winged' flight All the while blinking alone In the blankness of the starry hot night Ohh Demetrius that awaited a party That never got started Because he believed it was cool to be tarty Too see is to See What your head Wants to believe Another night past round the blast Where Chicago blistered bleakly And the lights were turned right out Out and fast and out and cast Fish a' bleedin' orange Orange and rocky sands A letter opened itself To a lover that did not Want to feel or see She read it out loud To the pitch of a sound She never meant to reach Imaginary sentimentalists That persuade themselves That they are no man Nor hold no Robotic hand They are The children Of the Evolution Evolution. What a silly Bourgeois Excuse To me Tis' just another excuse To fend off The Noose
Written by
ashby-brown
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
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