- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ode to HST
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Eating poppies and popping candies on bed or a hotel or someplace
cant remember where or when; but listen to this crazy tale, quite a story
when me, you and the studebaker rattled each rule
within its definitive box; even broke some with abandon for the elusive glory
Zipping down the twisted landscape of yesterdays, keeping
the spoor of hunt alive, nostrils flaring in rhythm with time
Flashes of brilliance or backlash of Ly Sergic? Utter confusion
Where slitting throats is a good deed and nursing the soul a crime
"Those days, O maaan, were 70mm widescreen", you said with a ghost
of a smile, burning within with angst and ache, eager to please and flatter
The apogee of your dreams in Dolby sound and technicolor running south
From whatever we were escaping from or searching for, it doesn't matter
For Hunter and Ralph, like Bonnie-n-Clyde, had plans to steal the sun
out of its arrogant cocky perch shining day in and out as planned
I hate routines and chores, they're for the drones, sure was no love
lost with our Maker, as we lay parched and dying in the sand
- COMMENTS
