Quote:
Originally Posted by Pharaohs Army
I can tell where you are it's raining.
Don't speak of a soul until you've seen my training.
I do your bidding. Here, an Aristotle painting.
My time I fear is waning. Nothing advancing; nothing gaining.
My sloth: I fear there's nothing to stop it.
I can't even think of a verse for my next picture topic.
At least with You I'm being honest.
Netcees has missed your sonnets.
A snake-oil salesman told me to empty all my pockets.
I obliged, and also asked him if he wanted the shirt off my back.
He said yes, took off his hat, and then insulted me.
He lacked tact.
Just about everything I've written is whack.
This is because I only write about things I lack.
I'm a poor man too. I'll never see a money stack.
I have a hard time because I only work part time.
I guess I could go work in the salt mine.
At least with my enemies I draw a hard line.
I should put this as a piece because it flows fine.
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Gaze before you turn to ash.
A haunting cursed laugh
Bellowing as thunder claps.
Winter in a summer dance.
Sun and moon contrast,
Roses blooming black.
The all-father is back,
No buffoon will last.
Wounds amass
As vacuous gas
We’re soon to gasp.
The vacuum is vast
Yet neurosis eats us;
A claustrophobic fetus
Panics in the womb.
Flashes of planetary doom.
We’re all in imaginary moods
Turning pages of solipsist fables;
Fantasies with solid liquid labels.
Flux of amnesia and dementia, yet
Superior to creatures with dyslexia.
Memories are the first to pass
Forget how to mourn the past,
Who I made love to first detaches.
Fuck off was her last words before passing.
The curse of falling for whores and manics.
Having orgies with sheep in wolf’s clothing.
Climaxing just when it looked hopeless.
Alcohol makes everyone a smooth poet.
Puzzle piece together amor from fragments.
Exquisite experience nothing more than facets.
Undulate as we explore tantra’s pattern.
Desecrating the sacred,
Spitting on your corpse and laughing.
I can feel your aura blacken.