Poezia Terrorista

domingo, abril 29, 2012

Theres no thing to be done
when ur nose onto a sock's blown
with no time to be wasted
theres no rope to be hung
when in time of clay faces
no claim nor fallacies
when thought to be over
again is begun
for youth when it's fainted
oldtime is acquainted
and there's not fallacies
and no while to be hung

Dog

My Dog and I
sat beside my Dog
Staring at each other
And a doggone day
Staring back at us all
and a Dog
a Dog in the fog
smoky fog of all
and what's to say
when a dog's no longer a dog.