tagNon-Erotic PoetryIn the Grasses

In the Grasses


Visions and splendour
the grasses are wild, the olives are juicy, the nectar falls slowly
Waiting and oozing,
that squelch underfoot as the fat slug is ground down
Would that My thoughts, laced and fuzzy
hark the eaves-bough and drip in the morntide
Wheeling and caterwauling,
                                        Who goes into the dank slimy recesses
Many profess that, do they ken the silences
     Take Mine hand and sojourn a while,
linger in fresh Glades and Warm cuckolding breezes,
those tales from afar,
whisper'd naught in the night
Those Silent Whispers naught came to Mine door
                                                                      she lay there,
fecund as always
     Turning slowly, as if on a spit
Who? Did Ye say : Moi?
Non plus! Mais jamais
I wish to be borne on a bier
Ere the time arrives,
Take me hence and deliver those to Me as I won't
Raising Mine face from the entrails

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