well 'ts a good job one animal has his head screwed on....
even if this thing will never have its head out of the clouds with all its hallucinatin' and do what the ferksits told
like the one below is the actual one on top
all that really matters some battery
for the next new day
Anyway to the point. And no more poetical energetix,
As yes poetree
why they branded themselves as tree 'huggers'
Yet did fuck all, wonky buggers.
In fact 'wonky' is an offence to poetical language
just lazy stream cloggin garbage
But hate the sin never the sinners
Lost in so much effort into the right jostic at their purifying dinners
Anyway forget all that even if i never realised until even encounterin' the one whom should have known,
having left her vilest ever once 'Second City', home
likely to come peddle
yet more shamaniac and be-WELL! twaddle
from her back room late at night
Too shagged out to get up with the light
and even do a few kilometers in the place
they come to "hold the space"
But certainly
Not for ALL their made up 'community'
Ahhhahhh but don't be thinkin'
Imoan, too
i do
And it has BEEN DONE
Righty ho that's that now all that matters - for real, is at last i figured what the flaw is in even great actually modern, art. About the 'Past'.
And yes - well... i wonder if she will even have a look.
(and still remembers the yes 'MYTH' in that great book)
VIDEO
But here is indeed the thing.
A great song or no not poem only one was ever any good
and in fact accurate
the best is yet to be, the last of life for which...
here's the thing though
memory
poignancy
..... thing is there's only one actual truly developmental moment,
A mish mash of being discontent
Knowing nothing in that moaning old man could in any way
positively energise the day
But walking back across the Woodlanders yard
That was hard.
Especially as i knew one hundred percent
Not one smallest personal advantage or even moment content
can or could ever or will
come from
a cuppa with a Brit who's 'ill'
Impossible angry entitled
to what?
Just melodramatic pissing in a pot
addicted, steam, of subconsciousness
that's as constructed as their currency
The bank of moan moan
poor me and now all alone
when they had a chance....
oooh what was that dance?
so, 'now ' - ohh my god even once-ok, Elizabeth is now quoting him.
Some kind of eureka in her shower,
there is only one Power
I am only about now infact later today
And who would have thought the best ones are rainy
(but then what twaddle "wettest January this forever and a day"
bullshit there was that proper monsoon January
Twenty twenty " ohh my what are we to do
no work for six actually non stop wet weeks,
thats it, she'll be poised over her eviction notice,
the one richwoman lostwoman hobby she's so thrilled to do
And then... nearly two years later
Of only Black Swans bobbin around
it's impossible to even lament her
As without her inner little girl without any little girl of her own
she must of course wreck someone else's home)
But that's not even interesting
ONLY one thing is...
So... the truly great song, you have to take the two versions up out onto a hill
these ones so underwhelming almost makes you ill
When you are at the simply perfect moment
Of always inner content
At every gib, illusionista even HIM!!
if he means his promuklgated promotion
In writing, on his door, into the book
may as well be the usdual selfrevential
four thousand years of
"light unto the nations,"
oops Im drowning in the cellar
"could we ehhh... package her nicely and sell her.."
yes i get it, but we do have actual progression
thing is ....
(i realise its all every one addicted to the next 'new' fashion - thats it a truly turgid tale of fourty dullest years)
Misses THE whole point of life and having an emotional curcuitry
Those katydids... chirpin from Southern swamp and tree
Yes, upon the hill, there is only truth, the sons version outdoes dad
but why fiddle!!
with the most poignant of all ....
scene setting, little knob twiddle
That takes you back exactly there then, and now
Is more than any other moment
who you are, and will always be.
And that's the damn thing.
It's not a saudade,
out at sea
Maybe ebbin' back
if one hangs around watin til the end of time
It's merely a moral matrix
maturing in one moment,
especially that one before
" don't stop, dont respond...
just a redneck gotta make his point...
poor little snake never did him any harm
he's just waiting for one day when some chief redneck will
tell him to really take up arms..."
even if i added in a line,
near fourty years later, because it's the right one
Anyway thus endless recreate yourself and the most arrogant people in the universe
Definition: they never stood and stared at what was once worth staring at
in themselves. Too busy showing off what they are going to be in some next moment in their sick heads.
May as well in my opinion be dead.
Because there are certain moments
if you have them forced inside
and nothing new can help you hide
Away from the very very few
that helped just ratchet up to a slightly better 'you'
And all of listening, smelling, even speeding
Along a certain Southern highway one evening
FM radio hunting around
" what on EARTH is that!!??!! ......... wow thats my kind of sound..."
Which is irrelevant even if the only question is
is can the English variant
Ever even stop....
and know her own past moments truly poignant
Are the gifts last so much longer than their magpine pretty things
fads, vuuduu zealotry, pretending to hug some poor tree
fashion, until the unsayable heresy "i'm so bored of ME!"
Merely because some (damaged) Maddison Avenue yank
went and hijacked a bit of Freud
turned it into what may just do him some good
when he couldnt ever know what it will feel like to have the world at his feet
As he's still at the gallows pole of his wonky mothers bloodstained sheet
twisted into a rope around his neck
may as well have been ....
or stayed at .... the war he ran from, always in his head
Indeed what's the exact opposite of ... her song
VIDEO
All i know is that there is a joy in using a pen and writing
lifelong my medium, even if my writing tedium
windbag death and rarely much zing
But infact more of an 'in the trenches
fuck them fake healer wenches
do nobody any good, head or body'
thing....
is alive and kicking
with this damn thing
thats killed stone dead any real communication
Likely even back to my half, or at least a third, weirdo home nation
