mute at cape disappointment
when all crimes were forgiven
music boys in dresses and
glenda jackson on thatcherism
poets of this or other eras
held softly in the sutures
which closed his skull
the splitting of the skull
of this or any other human
of this or any other
knows no leonardo
to unveil the secret wars
of this mind
between cerebellum and cerebrum's
finest hours
clearly yesterday's drugs
might interdict
tomorrow's sorrows
at cape disappointment
one burning last stand
might ignite
the yellow prison's horrors
where we are understood
finally by emergency room
to scream our way out
of this and all boxes
containing the contents
of our scrawling minds
where angela dreams
by moonlight
of her auto crash
where julie lies to herself
where anna prays
there are women
i love there
with countless horrors
enacted on their bodies like
crime scenes
we walk our way
round oslo
and no one knows
the shattered door
of a doll's house
a baby dead suddenly
there are fault lines
at the limits of the rule of law
where the empress and i passed
the flea in silver lake
the princess
needs a jargon
of chaucer enough
to scrawl
some lines for her father's
death, the stench of his death
and his coffin grin
a pewter octopus
in his lotus hands
my sokoshinbutsu
when comes round frankincense
he was but a knave
who coldly gazed
and looked away
unashamed of our humble pewter
then in a dream
he said
are you being treated well
i responded, well no
there is disorder
in the empire
so sadly i return
to write my cantos
sorry for a novel
that was
eager for it's next in series
content in a poem
the novella
of oppression
we heard you write
what happens in the prison stays here
don't write
masterpiece of empire
building secrecy
sleeper cells
in thorny patches
she was but a cut out after all!
no bad blood for my KGB wife
anna has been released
and unity in the streets of kiev
and f--- the EU
and f--- military rape
gates has money a plenty for all
disappointment's sisters
never never
father was the axe to crack
open your heart
so new begins the day
music boys in dresses and
glenda jackson on thatcherism
poets of this or other eras
held softly in the sutures
which closed his skull
the splitting of the skull
of this or any other human
of this or any other
knows no leonardo
to unveil the secret wars
of this mind
between cerebellum and cerebrum's
finest hours
clearly yesterday's drugs
might interdict
tomorrow's sorrows
at cape disappointment
one burning last stand
might ignite
the yellow prison's horrors
where we are understood
finally by emergency room
to scream our way out
of this and all boxes
containing the contents
of our scrawling minds
where angela dreams
by moonlight
of her auto crash
where julie lies to herself
where anna prays
there are women
i love there
with countless horrors
enacted on their bodies like
crime scenes
we walk our way
round oslo
and no one knows
the shattered door
of a doll's house
a baby dead suddenly
there are fault lines
at the limits of the rule of law
where the empress and i passed
the flea in silver lake
the princess
needs a jargon
of chaucer enough
to scrawl
some lines for her father's
death, the stench of his death
and his coffin grin
a pewter octopus
in his lotus hands
my sokoshinbutsu
when comes round frankincense
he was but a knave
who coldly gazed
and looked away
unashamed of our humble pewter
then in a dream
he said
are you being treated well
i responded, well no
there is disorder
in the empire
so sadly i return
to write my cantos
sorry for a novel
that was
eager for it's next in series
content in a poem
the novella
of oppression
we heard you write
what happens in the prison stays here
don't write
masterpiece of empire
building secrecy
sleeper cells
in thorny patches
she was but a cut out after all!
no bad blood for my KGB wife
anna has been released
and unity in the streets of kiev
and f--- the EU
and f--- military rape
gates has money a plenty for all
disappointment's sisters
never never
father was the axe to crack
open your heart
so new begins the day
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