Quick Limerick (actually not)
Blunt, bought beggars
Blew sick and twisted hips
Overshowered, but with rotting teeth
Meet the mark of hiding the memento mori
Carefully, but without fine-tuning
This goes towards its natural end
Walked, condemned to walk
Forward
In the sick, quick limerick of time
Stop here
Get off
The sentence has ended
This period is no more
You are free to go but
you don't realize
In all your efforts, you have effaced your face.
6/8/11
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Saint Francis of the Asinine
Saint Francis of the Asinine
You have loosened something here, I see
A trapped flow
And now I am on the outside looking in
Watching it spill onto you.
I knew what it was, once, to be where you were
With downcast, contemplating eyes
And a love for taking in sick animals.
To sacrifice self is not the meat of this
You are not a martyr if the sick ignore you by choice;
You are ineffectual.
Save yourself, save your guts, save your blood.
Hope is wasted on the unwilling.
6/8/11
You have loosened something here, I see
A trapped flow
And now I am on the outside looking in
Watching it spill onto you.
I knew what it was, once, to be where you were
With downcast, contemplating eyes
And a love for taking in sick animals.
To sacrifice self is not the meat of this
You are not a martyr if the sick ignore you by choice;
You are ineffectual.
Save yourself, save your guts, save your blood.
Hope is wasted on the unwilling.
6/8/11
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