"commune" poems
My favorite # 1 Life experiences enhancer stress and pain reliever the magical psychotropic attributes it has makes me go loco. Cannabis Sativa/Indica or Hybrid I love it all...the only bud I won't smoke is "Reggies" that seedy nasty **** It gives me a headache. All other qualities strains and methods of ingesting or using marijuana welcome. The *** oil is so strong yet so dreamy and good. All around is excellent medicine and I will always remain to use it even after I quit my other habits. Makes people rejoice and come together happily with each other and commune and be kind to each other respectful to each other. That is what u love about cannabis.
PotHead4 Life 4/20Friendly
©Franko the Christian Poet
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed
cleaned the toilet
the bathtub
scrubbed the bathroom floor
and cut my toenails and
my hair.
then
all on the same day
the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet
and the toilet
and the gas man fixed the heater
and the phone man fixed the phone.
noe I sit in all this perfection.
it is quiet.
I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
I felt better when everything was in
disorder.
it will take me some months to get back to normal:
I can't even find a roach to commune with.
I have lost my rythm.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I have been robbed of
my filth.
16.8k
this table in the
shade
these commune hippies
in the river
I wrote a poem
in my sleep
I looked at the mountains
and thought
rain
staccato
metronome
irrigation
and caps
melting
but enough of this
nature
let’s go back
to the concrete
mouth
where we walk
through the city
full of cake
bloated like
balloons
but rolling
because
cake doesn’t make
you float
no
cake only makes you
fat
the conversation turns
to the stench
there’s something dying
in the air
we leave
and roll joints
spot magnums
on tree branches
and think
only monkeys ****
in trees
and we would never
want to see
monkey ***
and ******
no
we’d never try it
and the homeless man next to us
puts his spoon
away
but god
why do we sleep
when we just wake up?
why do we sleep
to dream
such ********
things
where celebrities
feed us salami in
back alleyways
and we see our mother
pooping on
world maps?
time rips of
lyrical grass
conductive smile
soap bubbles
these beautiful
dreamtime mornings
spent thinking of you
in playhouse mountains
like a child
you smile
like a friend
I offer you my hand
and we walk
to the white
together
bill withers is there
he is singing
in his yellow
turtleneck
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
Spirit Dolphin
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
Intelligent communicate
Heartbeats of love and breath of life
Superior to human sight
Your sound waves and reverberates
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
You touch the stars and elevate
Our spirits to become alight
Giving us freedom to ignite
Centers begin to emanate
To be in tune in natures light
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Oceanic friend, solar flare
Communicating our monsoon
Teaching in us how to commune
Opening our minds to beware
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Your innocence rests like lagoon
On the surface emotions bare
Vulnerability is there
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
Selfless creature giving plenty
From outer space some do discuss
To touch you frees us from raucous
To ride with you fulfills empty
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
With you we find our playfulness
Self-confidence more than any
Never to lose our assembly
Connect us all with inner trust
A good omen to protect us
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
What might seem strange is certainly
A reflection upon our youth
Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root
Free from shame inadvertently
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
Though we may taste forbidden fruit
What we will learn so artfully
Forgives our aches so perfectly
Flipping through curious pursuit
Helping others finding our truth
© tHE tERRY tREE
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Nature has divine qualities
Beyond national divides
So heart enfold immortal love
Where one sees mountain dance and move
In this do love has no color
Skin pigment shouldn't be honor
For all bears reddish clot
As we tread on earth path
So soil of time embraces our body
As the enlived soul transpired to the sky
All become one in a starky heaven
Where no divide and rule leaven
Only unending peace it brings
Shrinking hearts with joy and unending smiles
As they commune in glows of divine instinct
For the greatest commandment is love
As bird fly above
So cloud of hate gives love as chance
Embracing one with will of divine
So our earth become an undying paradise
written by
Martin Ijir
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
I hear the rhythmic clapping
And feel the pounding of feet on the ground
As dust swirls and dances around
While I sit facing the sun
In all her divine beauty.
Encased in the wood of the red gum tree,
I am at peace.
Burnum carves my totem outside
Surrounded by holy men,
Loved ones and ancestors.
This is my signifier and protection.
I am Miki the moon
Recently returned to my tribe
Heeding the call of the spirits.
My people mourn deeply
But know I will come again
To be at one with them,
First I must commune with the great creator
Rainbow spirit of the sky
For now is the time for dreaming.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
Blessed are they whose baby-souls are bright,
Whose brows are sealèd with the cross of light,
Whom God Himself has deign'd to robe in white—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who follow through the wild
His sacred footprints, as a little child;
Who strive to keep their garments undefiled—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who commune with the Christ,
Midst holy angels, at the Eucharist—
Who aye seek sunlight through the rain and mist—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they—the strong in faith and grace—
Who humbly fill their own appointed place;
They who with steadfast patience run the race—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who suffer and endure—
They who through thorns and briars walk safe and sure;
Gold in the fire made beautiful and pure!—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they on whom the angels wait,
To keep them facing the celestial gate,
To help them keep their vows inviolate—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they to whom, at dead of night,—
In work, in prayer—though veiled from mortal sight,
The great King's messengers bring love and light—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they whose labours only cease
When God decrees the quiet, sweet release;
Who lie down calmly in the sleep of peace—
Blessed are they!
Whose dust is angel-guarded, where the flowers
And soft moss cover it, in this earth of ours;
Whose souls are roaming in celestial bowers—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they—our precious ones—who trod
A pathway for us o'er the rock-strewn sod.
How are they number'd with the saints of God!
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they, elected to sit down
With Christ, in that day of supreme renown,
When His own Bride shall wear her bridal crown—
Blessed are they!
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*Milky way around me
stars, sun, planets, the moon
interstellar, interplanetary
orbits, i commune
The heavens surround me
galaxies, constellations, nebulae
across my cosmic journey
for revolutions i'll stay
The cosmos envelope me
dark stars, black holes, supernova
flames in my tail I see
celestial brightness of my strata
Heavenly bodies you and me
falling star, giant star, dwarf star
my love is quasar-like energy
a bolide of us is not far
Astronomical intensity
alpha centauri,sirius, achernar
encompasses their enormity
unlike pulsars, we are shooting stars*
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:19 AM UTC
Like dude:
It's all just one big
Hippie commune
But everyone pretending
To
Own a pile a ****
And guns!
--
-------
Hey babe!
If ya wanna get laid
Just spread your legs
..
If you want love
Better learn some things
-------about it---------
---
Most of you seem
Like
You're already stupid
So
You don't gotta go
To
High school
Anymore!
----
In my last poem
I walked the Long beach
Home
So in this one
I'll
Just hang out with
Da dudes
In the hippie commune
--
Hey you!
Why don't you come too
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
Life can be painless
Provided there is sufficient
Peacefulness
For a dozen or so rituals
To be repeated simply
Endlessly
Your genius does not fail you
It allows you to understand the
Truth of the situation;
Which makes you--at times--
more tragic than ever
And your genius,
like all geniuses
Suffers periodic fits
of monumental
naïveté
Hi-ho
Listen:
Where is Grace
When milk and blood
Are about to be added
To the composition of the
Stinking ping-pong
***** being manufactured
In Grand Rapids?
Schizophrenia
The sound and appearance
Of the word fascinates
It sounds and looks to me
Like a human being
Sneezing in a blizzard of
Soapflakes
This much we know:
You made yourself hideously
Uncomfortable by not narrowing
Your attention to details
Of life that were immediately
Important
And by refusing to believe what
Your neighbors believed
Hi-ho
Let your imagination continue
To be the flywheel on the
Ramshackle machinery of the truth.
But not the ‘awful’ truth
The ‘beauty’ in truth
Because we are a part
Of a system that is very
Restless,
With people tearing around
All the time
Every so often,
somebody stops to put up
A monument
Ours is a country where
Everybody is expected to
Pay his own bills for
Everything,
And one of the most
Expensive things a person
Can do is get sick
Grace:
Because if we stay here
We’ll do one of two things
(or both!)
Build a Commune
Or do like Collin Heise did:
Make the main thing that we
do be this:
Move seventy-eight
Thousand pounds of olives
To Tulsa, Oklahoma
Even if we can’t
Improve the quality of our surroundings
We’ll do our best to make our
Insides beautiful instead
Piebald Roadtrip-writing, baby
Hi-ho
You are the turtle
able to live anywhere
even under water for short periods
With your home on your back
A particular comfort in
Realizing that it so often feels
There is no order in the
World around us
That we must adapt ourselves to
The requirements of
Chaos instead
Remember:
We are healthy
Only to the extent that
Our ideas are
Humane
To you
To me
To ourselves
To We
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
"...Ut si globi duo ad datam ab invicem distantiam filo intercedente connexi, revolverentur ur circa commune gravitatis centrum..."
D. Isaaci Newtoni.
From the level of the sea with its worlds of similarity and wonders of nature attracting beautiful birds, these ships fled to find the swirl reaching through to the floor. The ocean bed was dampened with the tears seen by the floating machine.
{ [ ( r - 3 ) d d u d t t ( f ) x ] / [ ( x , P ) ] } =
tau pi g ( y ; hyp N , par Z ) d w d x .
Observation created a self reflection, whereby the cosmic engineers projected the video like winds from outer forests. Engines became magical reverberation arising, if a correct answer could be presented to exist, as quality persistence like pieces of candy. Glittering, colored fragments of glass were scattered along the shore, they all liked as much as they admired the inventor.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Have you ever held your hand still
Just above a river’s passing water
Liquid rushing by reaching for your skin
Jumping up; eager to commune with you
Beckoning you to dip a finger in
Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC
There is a woman I oft meet
On my journey here to home
Hey Lady!
I feign to shout.
My complexion's dark
But not my Soul.
So when you fright
On my approach
For
Goodness
Sake;
There is no need
To cross the road.
I'll feel that for a millennia,
ME
&
My kin
You so rudely
Robbing me,
Of the
opportunity,
To politely
Commune with you...
“good morning”
Then again,
You could be applying,
Learned street smarts?
Changing lanes,
Avoiding crossing paths.
This
Uptown
Downtown
Topsy-Turvy
Up-side-down
YOU'RE - SO - COOL
Pretending not to see me,
Hiding under your
Beats
Skull candy.
What sweet music
are you channeling?
Tunes contrary to Art?
Con
Artist
Purveyors
of
Catchy wicked things
Said twice?
High definition
'Stereo'
Types?
Shall we dance from a distance
Again tomorrow?
Yes of course!
For I believe,
You too have been deceived.
Hey! Ms. Concept,
R U
Thinking;
The beauty found in this deep Brown,
Predetermines fact that
I'm called
Black?
© Qwey.ku
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
You must do it the right way
YOUR way is the only write way
They say nothing rhymes with orange
Well I am here to encourage
Yeah, go ahead and laugh at it
You don’t even know the half of it
Our poetry is for us, ourselves
Whether you’re ninety nine, or twelve
We commune within our souls
Another etch upon our scrolls
Our soul inverted, exposed
Something only we compose
Don’t ever be discouraged
Your writing is encouraged!
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
"Now when we had discovered Cyprus, we left it on the left hand."--Acts xxi. 3.
"We sailed under Cyprus, because the winds were contrary."--Acts xxvii. 4.
St. Barnabas, with John his sister's son,
Set sail for Cyprus; leaving in their wake
That chosen Vessel, who for Jesus' sake
Proclaimed the Gentiles and the Jews at one.
Divided while united, each must run
His mighty course not hell should overtake;
And pressing toward the mark must own the ache
Of love, and sigh for heaven not yet begun.
For saints in life-long exile yearn to touch
Warm human hands, and commune face to face;
But these we know not ever met again:
Yet once St. Paul at distance overmuch
Just sighted Cyprus; and once more in vain
Neared it and passed;--not there his landing-place.
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Painters, by the highest degree of inspiration,
And poets who with the Muse commune,
Command in their respective trades un-
Common craftmanship, exquisite creation
Of pen and brush upon the parchment
And canvass, through unfettered figment.
Gifted: poets, painters and musicians. Three
Geniuses on this terrestrial plane, with mind
As efficient as the moon in its fullest grind,
As do all artistic souls whose mastery
In finest workmanship are seen. Worship
The God of arts ye astronauts in spaceship,
For poets and painters are cardinal in artistic
Enrolment--and no less endowed are many another
Like sculptors--with thoughts solitary and cryptic.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Come into my commune,
My farm
In the sky;
You won't be lonely
Baby,
Not by a hiker's mile
Let's climb
Into the morrow,
Throwing fear
To the wind
The curators
Of sorrow
Are seething within
They prey
On your pleasure
And worship your sin
Like vultures
They hover,
Like maggots
They win
Come into my commune,
My farm
In the sky;
And feast
On your freedom
Then bury your lies;
You won't be lonely
Baby,
Not by a hiker's mile
~ P
#AHikersMile
(12/20/2014)
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
It’s cold and quiet here, sitting on the moon.
Watching as the world spins by, making its rounds.
Even with the stars shining, there’s still a sense of gloom.
The beat of my heart and inflection of my thoughts are the only sounds.
Where are you, sitting on the moon?
Alone, I feel as I rest here, I’m afraid it’s true.
As I lie on the moon, cold and alone, I've begun to feel attune.
Though I’m afraid feeling alone would not change if I were with you.
A strange place to be, sitting on the moon.
You can rest with me if you’d like, this isn't beguile.
Though I am afraid we would not be able to commune,
I would not mind if you came by the moon and stayed awhile.
It’s cold and quiet here, sitting on the moon.
I've never felt more content than I do on this grey mound.
I would not mind a silent visit, even if you just passed through.
And as I took my final breath, I couldn't help but smile,
Sitting on the moon.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Monroe Ave c. 2018, in my own dream land. K. Daniel's Revelation, cannot reverse what's starting to happen. Darker, more forlorn. No more bar and restaurant patrons, the streets are just a scattered herd of pestilence. No cars, the somnambules own the streets in silence. Honey dripping hipsters, years gone. ***** clothes, hair past their pearls. Asking for boy, asking for O.P.s, asking for girl, asking for crack, asking for methamphetamines. The only noise.
We lost the reclamation of the city our parents left. Escaping dead end cul-de-sacs of basement poverty, we no longer had to drive. Stacked with our friends in tenement commune. We delivered the body we consume in service, catering to a more privileged few. Only responsible for one when long work was done, I ensured my red blood's full of fun. We drank and inebriated with design when allowed more free time. But, darling, I think this town was already gentrified. We changed no thing.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
I wish I could sing you a song
I wish you could dance to the sweet melody
Of my heart drums
Today God gave the world this precious gift, indeed it is your special day,
I will keep my wishes for another day
But feel free to make my heart your wishing well
If not forever but at least just for today.
If you could give me the chance
I will paint you a sun
Create you a sky
Colour it with all the colours of the rainbow
And crown you the queen of all the galaxies of stars.
If you ask me, you deserve more than firewalls
You deserve the whole world.
You are worthy to worth more than wealth
If you most pardon me, let me make another wish
A wish only the almighty can grant indeed
I wish you the best of the best health
As a destined queen you are qualified to live a fiddle life indeed.
My dear, though my body is far away
My heart is always next to your glowing shadow
Dancing, smiling, drinking and sharing in your celebrations and sorrows.
Though our eyes had never seen face to face
But I daily commune with your words and your pictures are my windows.
We might never meet, no one can predict nature.
We might never be what I dare us to be but who can really tell the future?
Until the unpredictable happen, I pray your life should be sweeter than icing on a cake
I pray you live the life you want to live
And as long as it pleases God will.
I pray you can pry into the deepest part of thee
To see the priceless treasures hidden deep in thee
I pray you pray for the grace to mount this beautiful golden throne
And above all, there is an expression I deeply want to make
Which is, Happy birthday to you an angel and a destined queen.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
How I look at the world each day
Is a curious interplay
Of fire and earth, cadent and fixed,
And often my impressions are mixed.
The world entices me from the cocoon
Of my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
How I shine and how I feel…
To find a balance would be ideal.
The goal, of course, is to do what's right;
The nuances are ever so slight.
It's just a matter of being in tune
With my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Although I'm more complex than this,
Their strong influence is hard to miss.
Understanding who I am
Partly comes from the diagram
Of what occurs when they commune--
My Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
It isn't just as simple as that--
My Sun and Moon both having a chat.
It might make me ill at ease
To ignore the many intricacies
Of aspecting planets. Never jejune
Are my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Add my Rising Sign and see
How other people look at me.
Virgo adds more earth to tame
And somewhat soften my Leo flame.
There's no reason to ever impugn
My Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Finding answers within and without
Helps to dispel the burden of doubt.
Tools to study the self abound;
What we discover can be profound.
Knowledge of self comes never too soon
With my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
-by Bob B (4-19-22)
Apr 19, 2022
Apr 19, 2022 at 11:44 AM UTC
Houses sitting condemned, taking up the view
while the old guys sit sipping forties in forty degree
temperatures facing the wall so the wind doesn't burn
their faces too much in what could be called a modest December.
They turn their back to the guy hiding bags of rock
in his lips to avoid detection from the cameras posted
on both street corners. This place is set to a constant sneaking
violin pluck. We are all capers in a burgle commune.
I hung up a tarp today so the stray cats can hide from the wind.
In one stanza, January has set in and it is bitter to the bone.
We summoned the name of old man winter from repetition and
no one man may hold that burden. The ***** only warms their blood.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
Do you realize that races are overrated,
since God is no respecter of persons?
Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry
may ultimately destroy our existence.
Who needs people that:
• Lack brotherly love and respect for others
• Lust for power, wealth and **********
• Lack vision and purpose
• Lack maturity and wisdom
• Have attitudes of superiority
• Are poor in spirit
• Lack discipline and self-control
Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues,
pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions.
Without responsibility and accountability,
people get themselves in trouble rather quickly.
Who really wants or needs:
• Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse?
• or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions?
• or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves?
• or White’s collection of powdered deaths?
• or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others?
• or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness?
• or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life?
• or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty?
• or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death?
Our human collective needs to find real commonality,
within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards.
Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love,
true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships.
We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit;
however, we each must have a desire to do so.
Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community.
And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
I've been collecting ear wax
Since the belly button lint dust fire went bad
I lost all my dignity in that fiasco
So ear wax is all that I have left
Believe you me, it's not easy
Coming up with another scheme
After burning the whole town down to the ground
To get a single soul to look or even listen to me
But that fateful day that I dug deep
And pulled a replica of the Eiffel Tower out of my ear
I knew that fame and fortune lay before me
My time had arrived, my time was here
Who should I call first over my artful discovery
The Post? The Enquirer? The Times?
No I would call The Museum Of Modern Art in NYC
For the Art World would soon be mine
I knew I had to ratchet it up a notch
One piece of ear wax art might be a fluke
So I got out my brush...the Q-tip
And removed a portrait of John Wayne AKA The Duke
Since I live in a hippie commune in the woods
Little furry creatures would always stop by
To gaze upon the artful process
Squirrels can be the best of critics...no lie!
Which gave me the idea with all the left over ear wax
I sculptured a mini-amusement park with mini-arcades
And charged the woodland creatures nuts and berries
Which helped feed the hippies with whom I stay
It wasn't long after that I received the letter
Stating that art had a need for me
I've become known as The Andy Warhol of The Art World
With abstract ear wax being my specialty
Now I go to all the major "Who Does"
Where everybody knows my name
As I create masterpieces right before their eyes
Just don't hold it to close to the flame
Who would have ever thought that ear wax
Would be the perfect medium
To jet propel this Simpleton
To Art World stardom and beyond
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
Puisque de Sisteron à Nantes,
Au cabaret, tout français chante,
Puisque je suis ton échanson,
Je veux, ô Française charmante,
Te fredonner une chanson ;
Une chanson de ma manière,
Pour toi d'abord, et mes amis,
En buvant gaiement dans mon verre
À la santé de ton pays.
Amis, buvons à la Fortune
De la France, Mère commune,
Entre Shakespeare et Murillo :
On y voit la blonde et la brune,
On y boit la bière... et non l'eau.
Doux pays, le plus doux du monde,
Entre Washington... et Chauvin,
Tu baises la brune et la blonde,
Tu fais de la bière et du vin.
Ton cœur est franc, ton âme est fière ;
Les soldats de la Terre entière
T'attaqueront toujours en vain.
Tu baises la blonde et la bière
Comme on boit la brune et le vin.
La brune a le con de la lune,
La blonde a les poils... du mâtin...
Garde bien ta bière et ta brune,
Garde bien ta blonde et ton vin !
On tire la bière de l'orge,
La baïonnette de la forge,
Avec la vigne on fait du vin.
Ta blonde a deux fleurs sur la gorge,
Ta brune a deux grains de raisin.
L'une accroche sa jupe aux branches,
L'autre sourit sous les houblons :
Garde bien leurs garces de hanches,
Garde bien leurs bougres de cons.
Pays vaillant comme un archange,
Pays plus *** que la vendange
Et que l'étoile du matin,
Ta blonde est une douce orange,
Mais ta brune ah !... sacré mâtin !
Ta brune a la griffe profonde ;
Ta rousse a le teint du jasmin ;
Garde-les bien ! Garde ta blonde
Garde-la, le sabre à la main.
Que tes canons n'aient pas de rouilles,
Que tes fileuses de quenouilles
Puissent en paix rire et dormir,
Et se repose sur tes couilles
Du présent et de l'avenir.
C'est sur elles que tu travailles
Sous les toisons d'ombre ou d'or fin :
Garde-les des regards canailles,
Garde-les du coup d'œil hautain !
Pays galant, la langue est claire
Comme le soleil dans ton verre,
Plus que le grec et le latin ;
Autant que ta blonde et ta bière
Garde-la bien, comme ton vin.
Pays plus beau que le Soleil, Lune,
Étoile, aube, aurore et matins.
Aime bien ta blonde et ta brune,
Et fais-leur... beaucoup de catins !
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