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By wordley Date: 2002 May 24 Comment on this Work [[2002.05.24.11.26.26530]] |
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Those little bits of me and you, That in years gone by have certainly grew, And attracted glances from admiring souls Who would like to encroach on our various holes, For no matter what their orientation, They would seek our exploitation In the name of so-called love, Their mental phallus into us shove And leave a seed of consternation A classic head fuck, an ejaculation Of lies, proclaiming love is dead, It only exists here in the head And is used, materially by those who seek To gain control over the weak........ What beats here, within my breast? This heart seeks nothing, save the rest Of laying 'gainst another like Who listens not to a twisted phsyche Is deaf to the lies the mind may tell Passed down each fibre, to each cell But stops there at that noble gate, Beyond which they would have to wait, And dissipate in the fire of time For heart is the home,not of reason, but of rhyme And wimsey, and fancy and timeless desire All those wonderful qualities to which we aspire........ Simple love.....that's what I'm about If I go to the mountains and from the top, shout I'll have no truck with ulterior motives For my idea of heaven is not where God lives But is where ever you may be, And your little bits that grew up so attractivly!! |