The Selfish Poetry of My 1000 Years (On a Wooden Shelf)
It was brilliant in the individual woe:
no surprise in waking and faking,
no publication of the beggar’s throw;
just the succumbing to inner shaking
Fuck! the blanket (say hi to the day)
Emotion to revolution to evolution (?)
No soul gutting and people fray
(rather a giving to the needing of raped occupation)
Take a sentence to create and pray
(indiscreetly invest applause)
Be sensitive to Art
Have an acid lay
Kidnapped! pause … birth to cause?
Disdogmafy, include longing, criticize
(so cruel to insist that i exist)
Non-committal pigs, why should i apologize
when the me in me persists?
I’ve no desire for rental fear
(rather rear it and drink a beer)
Sanctuary is in protective behaviour;
washed, commercialized, never here
The distance to together is hope
How low? is the distance to me
One, ten, one thousand years, forever
They thought me so clever … (yet)
i’d sacrifice for dirty lips;
a give-up to a pleasure sip.
Not so good before breakfast
The type of poetry that's as simple as marmalade and bacon dipped in coffee:)