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29.06.2006
the things I want to see
I have lost my faith
Looking on, thinking about this heist
That fugitive within the spirit of my thought
I can’t hold to this moribund wraith any more
That’s the root of my consciences’ unease
Taking that you have let me be
I like your Sunday muse,
When smart kids run to church
With their parents tagging along labouring to
keep their shoes shine
And later walk home, hungry, hurrying to
eat lunch-
I like my Sunday muse
When I sit on the verandah listening to
Biggie
Worrying about his pride in bed-
Me, worrying about the space that is morrow.
16:05 Posted in Poetry | Permalink | Comments (5) | Email this
Comments
i saw a painting once that made me feel this way, wierd hearing u talk about it...
Posted by: ink | 01.07.2006
but you guy, why aint you charging money for us to read this stuff? this is awad winning right here! you just summed up my mindframe for the last 6 months. thank you.
Posted by: degstar | 07.07.2006
I thinks its great you visiting...its worth the cash
Posted by: waterforest | 13.07.2006
Yo! Pssst! Gwe...Degs IS A GUY! Inktus's the girl....
Posted by: Mataachi | 18.07.2006
Mataachi...I thought so too.
Posted by: waterforest | 25.07.2006
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