Saturday, August 8, 2009

Call for... the wind....


What if I...Blank stares across the swampland.
Finally I was to stay glad...Well the first man trippin'.
Winched out the catacomb, the honey dew drippin'.
Screams across the band stand, water poured for many hours...
Some did not say, or stay.
They sat or stood, what was it...the small man did ask.
Feeling the back of the naked necklace, feeding it to the dog whores.
Sooner... he got it all right, Oh sooner... he came through....
Sooner... he came to see all the things he went through.
All hes gotta reach for.... is someway to go...
To many trails to follow, nectar sippin'to long.

All that walks on by, strive for the moon.
Call...f-or.. for-the... for... the wind, and then order the sun... to go away.


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ZETE PURONGGE * .......
Zete Purongge

No!....Stay they
cats combed in the final dripping
Allplayed out or in or between those
Reaching....spewing the nectarines down his skirtle
The tires on his autocart are flatland mysteries
Beyond his heaven lies a doggone fishead feature
Trailed with seaweed he locks his jaw on a rock
Horror is not issued justly...just issued.

1 comment:

  1. *smiles* just like in the other days, right!?

    ReplyDelete