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freds-not-deadPoems
Singing one time like all Clothed eyed people Rolling their own cigarettes (that’s important) Shawls and things that only You know Certain types of people wear And the uniforms here are backwards And you win only if You stand out, but it’s just running away with people not chasing Haircuts Those are important too Guys pretend not to have one but they let the faces get rough And forest like And girls act like caring isn’t a type of flightless bird but It’s more of a statement maybe And I thought I couldn’t be a banker because of the Way I acted And the way I felt about things like the weather and prostitution But really I can’t be a poet Least of all I can’t be a poet I must be wrapped swimming in clouds backwards, or something poetic like that I can’t tell The difference between Being a doctor, teacher A healer, a man that crucifies himself on Wall Street A serial killer A starving child And a fashion guru Earlier I said this out loud and Now it’s a poem ( and the words go **** me **** me **** me and the pages sing **** me **** me **** me)
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Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC
This one is called
Singing one time like all Clothed eyed people Rolling their own cigarettes (that’s important) Shawls and things that only You know Certain types of people wear And the uniforms here are backwards And you win only if You stand out, but it’s just running away with people not chasing Haircuts Those are important too Guys pretend not to have one but they let the faces get rough And forest like And girls act like caring isn’t a type of flightless bird but It’s more of a statement maybe And I thought I couldn’t be a banker because of the Way I acted And the way I felt about things like the weather and prostitution But really I can’t be a poet Least of all I can’t be a poet I must be wrapped swimming in clouds backwards, or something poetic like that I can’t tell The difference between Being a doctor, teacher A healer, a man that crucifies himself on Wall Street A serial killer A starving child And a fashion guru Earlier I said this out loud and Now it’s a poem ( and the words go **** me **** me **** me and the pages sing **** me **** me **** me)
freds-not-dead
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freds-not-dead
Canadian
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC
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