2001-07-04 | *beret of enlightenment*

I wrote this when i was in oregon. for some reason i named it this awful title. i'll stick with it. i think i was making fun of people who actually think they're poets, but aren't. so i tried to get deep with some sort of sense of humor. most of the time i don't remember what i was feeling, but i was feeling it at the time so it provoked me to write something and now i'm stuck with it. i consider myself somewhat a poet. there's really no such thing as structural poetry anymore...there are so many things i consider poetic that have even less structure then my garbage. anyway on with the show

"I'm a poet, I know it....I hope I don't blow it"-- BOB DYLAN

"BERET OF ENLIGHTENMENT"

the zealous youth accidentally accomadates an empty wasteland. why am I a villian for bringing you a message from the same man? the same man. the sane man. with the same plan...as the ones who left you there to pave the way, man... Populating spaces that were crowded before you lived there. Secretly hating places that we go to even though you've never been there. Never been there..never been. where we go...because you start to overflow. You start to scream and then you overthrow them. overthrow them. overflowin'. a youngster accumulates a plethora of empty thoughts and feelings. Why am I the villain for singing you a message?...why am I on the ceiling? On the ceiling. On the ceiling. Isn't it time for the healing. once more with less feeling. for the ones that left you on the pavement, peeling. an achievement of skeptic proportions, set sail like a yacht. Secretly selling your soul away, while claiming you can't be bought. Can't be bought. Can't be bought. This battle cannot be fought. He got trapped much faster than he thought. Never knowing he was overflowing.

(??????i know this is stupid. but i wrote it. i admit it)

- premature ejaculation | tantra +