Thank God, Thank Fuck. But how long can one stay the course?
For 'evil' fingers are merely ticklish rogues
Impatient to entice you into a schticky mess.
Recapitulate for yourself that eggshell blue kitchen table,
Shelves of weighty books and copper pots and pans.
Is it your dreams or yourself now on the shelf?
Bah! Exclamation, hoity-toity nonsense babble.
Sometimes it seems you'll find the allure in anything,
What a good quality! Being able
To cherish the oozing pustules of human nature,
Licking that warty mass with such love
It now becomes a beacon to behold.
Numbers are no longer added together
But fitted beside each other as a jigsaw.
A formula of such ancient beauty
Now wears the laughable dress of a hoar.
And soon a painted shack must be called love,
For a life with out such must be a lie,
Even if we must lie to be accomplished.
Look back in anger if you must
A gloating sign post is bound to glint in the distance,
Perhaps it might have a mate somewhere further up the road.
Deep needn't be the depths.
Sell off all those tatty saplings,
You shall never find the need to plant them,
If you decide to live high above the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment