not sure the limitless pain is worth the limited pleasure,
but there is a oneness to be found in the brittle loneliness,
an at-one-ment,
but I'm getting old,
standing next to a urinal,
an old man's stream is more powerful than mine,
a sad envy washes over me,
as my head spins gently,
with garbage songs,
from your garbage radio,
so much that is wrong,
a rhythm,
a whistle,
a song through the night,
but perhaps somewhere deep down it's alright,
and someday,
we'll all be somewhere,
deep down.
4 comments:
Sweet one HP. Like your use of sound - I could hear the lonesome whistle.
This timely. How come when you gotta go, it hardly comes out. Other times when you gotta go, you can hardly hold it in? God, like the bladder he created works in mysterious ways. Never read a poem quite like this. I take my hat off to your creativity.
All streams ebb and flow -- its when they flow all the time we have a problem. All pleasure, no pain? No thanks. All others, no oneself, fuck that. Amour propre, my friend.
These lyrics would sound great -- write some music for it.
I like your play-on-wordz, dude. WonderFULLy enriching to see. Yes, you may have A-L-L of our blogs. Why not? If you can stand the hyphenated subliminalousity, GO-FOR-IT, dude. Just promise me one thing. You'll repent at the Warning --- You know, of course, 1-outta-1 croaks, so why don’t you follow us Home to Heaven Above? Why don’t we have a BIG-ol, roxx-our-soxx (and whatever amount of Xs you desire), party-hardy celebrating our resurrection for many eons? I’ll be your faithfull servant, too, for however long you desire: Heaven TOTALLY kicks-ass for eternity. How do I know this fact? I saw it for a brief instant after our accident: pleasureNtreasure-beyond-measure. God bless you. _thewarningsecondcoming.com_
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