sickboy66

I have a story of the greatest joy
etched on my finger tips
pulling the moon to my lips

supple and warm, not unlike
a mothers breast............

The Darkness Comes

for always have we held thee
to be our Goddess, mighty and august
our only passion _ old Angle of guilt
a garden of poems
roots holding Inspiration in mistrust

the South and all those miserable memories of childhood
my summertime despairs
the horrible amounts of strength
know-how fate has always robbed me of

maybe I will take a boozy nap
under the arm of this oak
its fire burns for an eternity
harassing my flight to the east

then I awoke

oh, the foolish thoughts of a nincompoop

Lets all go on enjoying ourselves, dreaming up monstrous loves and fantastic universes, griping and criticizing the world's disguises - acrobat, beggar, artist, outlaw.

I recognize that filthy education of my childhood.................

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............................................................................Flying High...........................................................................

come with me all without need
no gravity here if you believe
I love you all loathsome I my be
simple words the meaning of my spleen
just another foolish notion wouldn't you say

Happy mothers day to all you lovely moms!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!