Friday, October 22, 2010

In a Cell by the City

I am pleasantly surmised by the sodomized fleece
of an unabashed lad squandering away to the lands
by the hands of a gold miner rich of a fortuitous luck
and a schmuck of drooping flesh endlessly flapping
in the breeze where no pronounced features begin with please
tiring of a quiet life and hoping for something new
relieves a delicate revival of east meeting west
and back again to the times of days slaving under the sun
is just as bad as slaving over the hot stove
but one continuos to feast on benefits from the seed.
Please plant the last one with care.

As if life were to end without a quaking or a waking
and life would stop without a solution or resolution
no peace was made not even between man and woman
where aroused feelings fade away and time continued to make
promises to brake and a hand full of shattered glass is a landmark
to fame when you realize it could have been wit to gain a path
through a legionnaires lament weeping for apathy
but receiving scorn and short busts weaving hopelessly
displaced for a grain of rice that fell by my side.

If all comes downs to this and I may think to date
of a lucky man out of the blue got no love where his mother gave him none
were to think a lucky woman were able to give him some.
It is incorrect to think of being spared a straight line to hypnotize
nothing but loneliness for a bike to ride on to transport us to a place.
I cannot perform magic or I would have cured my life of bleeding wounds
to accomplish everything without love or gloom.

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