bushes

untitled
date: unknown


Bushes are my pride
The hieroglyphics are written
In needles, thorns and thickets
As I communicate with snails, frogs and crickets
The bugs are my friends
As I make ends meet with absolutely no ends


...Hours later
Yet only seconds
Time's conceptualization is affray
A rebel at his works
I include them
Intruders are my companions
I open all the locks of my doors
So the enemy can see
I take the risk as an alternative
A rebel at his works
Needs to know the many sides
Of himself/herself
A common archetype
We all must face
He is my audience
If I should turn to look
The shelf would have added another book
All I can do is be aware
In the illusion I live out
In the shadows of my own mind
My own mind.
















The Pack That Died (Not To Be Forgotten)
5-20-97


I'm the keeper of the twenty cigarette butts
A discarded pack
So I plan a funeral
A burial
A wasteland
A paradise
So to speak
Rejoicing in sweet sorrows
Tears as pleasant as tropical beverages on the beach
After a departure
Thinking, just thinking
Will I ever love again?
Will I ever love again.


So I cry and I cry
And she cries so hard in my throat
As it chokes up the love
To be stored in the bottle of sentimental investments
Creation of new dreams
A moment to remember
So, remember, remember, remember this
Remember...














Rhyming At McDonalds
5-21-97


The Graw man's back
He's got me out of sight
No money for my mac
So, a Joe is alright
asi, asi
Java is alright


What am I to do now
What am I to know
Got to hold off on the cow
Until I get some dough
What am I to live for
What am I to see
Where will be my new tour
Of cities, in eyes, glee
Spit on the ground
And step on a flea
No one on the pitcher's mound
Stole w whole run for me
Rhyming at Mickey Dees
Minding my bees
Keeping it cool
With my twos and threes
Today I'm three 'G'
The man of my world
What am I to see
A song or a girl
What a way to spend a day
A state of play
In the month of May....