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"sinthe" poems
Thoughts we think we have for no reason we think poor, we think as a slave thinks, we think like a sharecropper. Reaping what our children selves sowed so others may eat it. We forged the chain that chains the wolf, never fear, vengenance has been tamed since shame was shown to be avoidable, flushable biodegradably wiped clean. Beans and corn remind you Chew your food. You can choke. You can die swallowing an untold lie whole. When you choke among those who wish you lived, Heimlich points blame straight at you, you expel the lie as if it were our creation, you're to blame, to shame, to prove you did not digest the story the lie intended to tell, the lying spirit in the mouth of magi sybils and seers and prophets and poets and such, who forgot the origin, the idea of binding a bubble into a being bubblin', bubblin, bubblin' in m' soul m'nordic nomadic hunter soul singin' along mit revinoor disdeemin' relations o'mine, who all dance to Flatt and Scruggs fiddle tunes. 't'sinthe blood, Galacian flutes and Persian fiddles and wooden clogs, mockasin- soft shoe, round the... shhh listen shuffle yah thisaway yaha thisaway hey hey this away ever coom buy ya'll, come by touch, in passing, take my piece, play to win. wink. wink. the one-eyed white man hands you his cane, wanders away as if he had some better place to be.
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Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
kenpepiton
Notes to the reader of the hermit's will
Thoughts we think we have for no reason we think poor, we think as a slave thinks, we think like a sharecropper. Reaping what our children selves sowed so others may eat it. We forged the chain that chains the wolf, never fear, vengenance has been tamed since shame was shown to be avoidable, flushable biodegradably wiped clean. Beans and corn remind you Chew your food. You can choke. You can die swallowing an untold lie whole. When you choke among those who wish you lived, Heimlich points blame straight at you, you expel the lie as if it were our creation, you're to blame, to shame, to prove you did not digest the story the lie intended to tell, the lying spirit in the mouth of magi sybils and seers and prophets and poets and such, who forgot the origin, the idea of binding a bubble into a being bubblin', bubblin, bubblin' in m' soul m'nordic nomadic hunter soul singin' along mit revinoor disdeemin' relations o'mine, who all dance to Flatt and Scruggs fiddle tunes. 't'sinthe blood, Galacian flutes and Persian fiddles and wooden clogs, mockasin- soft shoe, round the... shhh listen shuffle yah thisaway yaha thisaway hey hey this away ever coom buy ya'll, come by touch, in passing, take my piece, play to win. wink. wink. the one-eyed white man hands you his cane, wanders away as if he had some better place to be.
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