|
To feel the wind coming from miles away
bitter and breathing like God
and robbing the things i had wanted to say
this feeling is nothing but odd
Stuttering, reeling, I struggle to protest,
To save myself with eloquent pleas
The gelid wind swirls up and steals words from my chest
Their unuttered souls float away on the breeze
Squalls and flames and email have failed
to quell his existentialist droning;
'pon fruits and horses and children he dwells,
with the wife that he's not boning.
among august pontifications, my mind often feels adrift
amidst these strange logicians, fallacies undone
this thread is a good idea, yet very robert smith
i fought desires to copy/paste, am i the only one?
No, I'm not the only one, the answer appears
I the Asshat will save you from your fears
In editing this poem with much haste
I did not forget to cut-n-paste....
|