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taylor roff Nov 2011
my ears are *****
my fingers are *******(   with the purist of intentions   )
there is a bus in the lane next to me
as i come closer and closer
i notice the amsterdamn read lights
and i think to myself
(i wonder how much that bus driver would charge me for a ****)
she looks old and faded
crusty crumbling eye lids
held up by small sticks
made from the bones of huming bird wings
fashoned together by tiny men
in the face of the man in the moon
Autisma Mar 31
Ive never been there
But alike to the woodland
You find everywhere
It's a container for
Horror movies in hotels
Priceless small businesses
That are more of a friendly organization

I've heard it's a dime hidden in a soil ***
Swarthed with an anti racist attitude
And although overpriced
The wanting there for warmth
Takes secondary stance
To bibliographic amenities

Following round the populace
Of amsterdamn with the scent
Of inspiration, relaxation
And superb awareness

It's already an idyllic place for the elderly
(If they're rich enough - that's the sad part)
But why not bring the whole NHS over abroad
To the Netherlands
As an idyllic place for the mentally ill too?

They should at least advertise this kind
Of thing privately

To get the ball rolling

Poonanny cannabis creating God
Amen Lord.
Excellent in French politicians... Who are not needed anyway

Lets admit it
Politicians don't make change they just create drama
Or do it as a hobby.
Both basically.
Poodaddy.
Matilda.
Chocolate spread.
Bakery bread.
Zombie swords.
Dimensional animals.
Black denim jeans.
Dave black song.
Not being taken seriously.
Lucidity champagne ****** waterfalls coloured white.
Unicorns.
Katy perry.
**** **** of children.
Mast.
Fast food.
A universe with a hole in it.
Cyanide.
Bootlegged ******.
Honour thy mum and dad.
Soul mates.
Did I?
Epiphany.
Colourful painting.
Perusing...vain
Using understanding abusively
Burp/****
Michael John Jun 2023
and yet why not
was a bar on ios
called why not..
there was also
the far out,
(i imagine they are
still there..)
the far out, was
a place where americans
met americans they had
met in amsterdamn ,
berlin or venice..
there were london gangsters
stranded and dangerous..
we plied our trade upon the steps
of the far out and bruce springsteen
played day in and day out as
the wind blew..
******* women cut hair in
the gentle surf and the young
frats had their pictures taken..
the scandanavians had the best
tans and most of the money..


we lived in a donkey hut in the hills
overlooking the harbour
where the sun set
amidst hustlers and go-go
dancers..
the ferries came and went..
one bus to the village and
another down to the beach-
down the road was the
my way..

in the village there was bar
after bar
a disco near a windmill
retsina and souvlaki
people packed into
squares
i wonder now what we
said..
now and again
someone who lived there..
Michael John Jan 3
when i was young
well about 25
i read war and peace

i was half way through
war
when this guy goes

you know-give me something
to read
i am dying( i had nothing)

here..so i give him
peace-and amid oaths of
return i never saw him again..

ii

i tell a lie
sitting in a dusty cafe
in piraeus

he came out the rainy
day and we greeted like
old friends..

the sea rustled and cried..
he had got married
and now her brothers

were after him..
and then
we knocked into each other

in the red light district
of amsterdamn
we never seemed to change..

— The End —