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Zen Rocking Chairs And Ovaltine To what End shall I ? enter in to divest today tomorrow when I sit here being led through June by Zen candy I found punctuation and punctuality and the sounds of the moon and stars inside my trunk with a creak in my rocking chair hard rock, and cars and punks play in the background where I, with "eeek!", will creep ever so soon a cat tail does not fail to kill and father still falls asleep in front of the TV which still hawks Ovaltine do you know what I mean searching for the muse but how do I choose which treasure chest siren or nymph both, mischievous imps, they can be... indecent, they propose to me as I limp and fall ill into the chair again how shall I rest and review my recent occupants to critique my present documents for far too long plot and character develop while the music itself calls ME a song and I refuse to send the envelope today to whit- why while away, the wait with wit and wisdom lonely why give it away when, to the rest that singular vision is only- tears to cry so I can Begin... shall I? |
Additional Notes:
Not quite stream of conciousness poetry, but nearly. Not quite making sense, but nearly. Also, I wanted to find a nice way to use some of the bad rhymes we discussed on the board to decent effect, just 'cause. The poem could go either way for me. I just wrote and don't quite know what to think. My idea is that I will dislike it later, but I like it now.
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