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ashby-brownPoems
One of the ways you lied was quite hard to describe A riddle of ridicule laced with flaring shoe laces ***** nudist desires smelt of pure hash bury mayo Feeling as if the end of the dawn would just be the beginning To pleasure the thought of you was something I once liked to do Now no longer For the song bird can only sing for so long Before their feathers molt to hear a call to move on Move on blonde lady long legs We are always meeting and moving on Towards a sky which crashes silently Quenching the thirst of many So on a black rimmed earth a universe folds and folds and folds Where men travel far not knowing where they go Explore the neck of your lover to see that she has another Each bell in the row rings as if it were the first time Crack yourself up to hear the laughter that you hide away in your room At first you may be surprised but the twang will not die unless You Will it Night whistles through me For I am not here I am soon to be gone But not to no grave Each note guides itself upon a road that man must draw to understand They take pride in cracking magic that laughs at our attempts And our Experiments The word seemed to mean something once People used to mean something also Nowadays All I see Are comma break decimals And funeral homes
0
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 11:53 PM UTC
Comma Break Decimal
One of the ways you lied was quite hard to describe A riddle of ridicule laced with flaring shoe laces ***** nudist desires smelt of pure hash bury mayo Feeling as if the end of the dawn would just be the beginning To pleasure the thought of you was something I once liked to do Now no longer For the song bird can only sing for so long Before their feathers molt to hear a call to move on Move on blonde lady long legs We are always meeting and moving on Towards a sky which crashes silently Quenching the thirst of many So on a black rimmed earth a universe folds and folds and folds Where men travel far not knowing where they go Explore the neck of your lover to see that she has another Each bell in the row rings as if it were the first time Crack yourself up to hear the laughter that you hide away in your room At first you may be surprised but the twang will not die unless You Will it Night whistles through me For I am not here I am soon to be gone But not to no grave Each note guides itself upon a road that man must draw to understand They take pride in cracking magic that laughs at our attempts And our Experiments The word seemed to mean something once People used to mean something also Nowadays All I see Are comma break decimals And funeral homes
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ashby-brown
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 11:53 PM UTC
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