Wednesday, October 30, 2013

3 fingers, 3 chords

you are such a vast element,
look at you,
how can I ever know you?
I pound on your gates,
I call out to you in the black night,
I try to fight against your winds,
but I become weary in your sun,
and tremble in your cold, 

all the endless talk,
this examining,
this organizing,
this classifying,
this deducing,
but never knowing,
all this endless talk,
separating one from the other,

my fear strikes like lighting,
my nausea festers like boiling acid,
my despair crashes like waves,

I'm a slave to the grind,
before I begin, I'm behind,

all I need is 3 fingers of whiskey,
to loosen the Western-logico-linguistic bind,

all I crave is 3 chords of Blues,
to loosen your hand from mine.


temporal rooms said...


may i say this?
you know what i mean.



Brother Ollie said...

all give yah a Fuck yeah for that one