nEw YeARs Eve Pome for HoMeleSS & all Clodplay fans zzzz….
~=: Beetle in a Basket :=~
A blowtorch, some pliers, some skin, and a scream,
C sharp pitch, the voice chipped flint,
smells of dry piss and fear of a cat; scraped off a shoe
a click prick’s will to politik, I think,
aNd…
so spoke Zarathustra — to sign a tear in the lake –
to be remembered by a cured black-foot’s mind.
A melting totem carved in soap
and precisely positioned, gravity-wise,
relative to a legless one, who leaned and said,
“Wave, I can’t die,”
today anyway.
Then died anyway.
~~~~~…..
February 22nd, 2009 at 5:23 pm
Hmm, very chicklry.
March 2nd, 2010 at 10:03 am
I liked it a lot. It leaves you dizzy and impressed at the same time.