Quote:
Originally Posted by UnbornBuddha
Such delightful manic ravings
Chilling psychopathic phrasing.
it follows such a classic model
Of cliches and imagined sorrows,
Emptier soul than a plastic bottle.
Opening asylum so madness follows
Our life as the overarching shadow.
Even the deep end started shallow.
Preach to neophytes art is gospel,
Paint a picture crucifying Aristole.
Leave the past to charm tomorrow.
I saw her in the heart of brothels.
She lid a cigar that scarred my tonsils.
Drank Chiliean wine, experience time
And then into the oblivion blind.
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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.