"decan" poems
Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeing's inward span:
Nurse of swart nations since the world began,
Art thou so fruitful? or dost thou beguile
Such men to honour thee, who, worn with toil,
Rest for a space 'twixt Cairo and Decan?
O may dark fancies err! They surely do;
'Tis ignorance that makes a barren waste
Of all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew
Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste
The pleasant sunrise. Green isles hast thou too,
And to the sea as happily dost haste.
2.6k
Your jokes
Are dry as my mouth
When I have a joint
I dont like your house
Your mother is there, she doesnt like me.
You made me company before
But you got kicked out of the college
By a decan to whom you were a foe
You smoked marijuana, you got high and flew away
I miss you my friend,
You're a different person now
Guess that time came to an end
Never will we spred our wings again
I wish we could see the sky
with our red eyes
amen
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 9:09 AM UTC