some sort of reminiscence poem of a friend.


The acre of bloom

He sleeps with the fishes.
even if he was no fisher.
he sang nothing, he just
shouted.

the flowers in bloom.
as the bees pollinate.
hide in the high grass.
i scratched myself.
and bleed to death.
i tough anyway until
they rescued me and
said it was okey.

no youthful advice gonna
take me back. memories
turn black too. now youre
trapped there in dead mans
land. i got a six pack and
nothing to do...



Poetry by asshole
Read 780 times
Written on 2007-06-28 at 03:21

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lol I feel for you with that six pack line Asshole, keep doing those press ups. Nice write. A couple of typos in it. should that be. I tough or I touch? OK is Okay! in English language, but it may be different if you are a American? I like the title, they sound like a friend you miss? but they are always with you, or so I find. smiling at you, Tai
2007-06-28