the poet babbled on; the brook,
dried up and long since dead.
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If I don’t
gowhen I need togoI stillgoanywaywithoutgoing there
A pretty girl
and vice-a-versaso I’d sayfor like the sunlight itdelights our so prosaic dayand life is better fora metaphorwhen appositeto what you writethe first I usedthat made some sensecame out of childishinnocencebefore I readthe word in proseI thought that whatjust goes and goeswas ‘dire rear’ –not too badas an ideafor a nappy-happy lad?
O Lord, out of the depths do I cry unto Thee,
I am stricken unto the heart,and mine enemies close in about me;to whom but Thee may I cry for succour?* * *‘We do apologise, but due to anunusual volume of calls,all our supervisors are currently engaged.You call is important to us –please continue to hold..’(music)
tears and fears,
run as fast asfears run high,run as fast astears run dry,yesterdayis now today;nor should sorrowthink tomorrow;tears and fears,run away,(with apologies, witth love)
They’re too silly to be serious,
those moments when your rawadolescent ego (and how long it lasted…)is hurt to the quick…how you’d like to forget it,it’s so trivial… but you can’t;so then, you’d like to laugh at it;maybe make a jokey verse about it…but that doesn’t work, either…and, as if it mattered…when I was forever desperatefor the approval of any stranger,let…
There has to be a reason:
It’s not just that they jump up the sofa to the windowand bark excitedly even when the postman’s invisible down the street;that’s smart; but they don’t stop at that. For those of uswho still have letterboxes in our front doors,every one’s a tasty finger-trap…and open the front doorto take the parcel – and all hell…