opening up poetic portals
without the actual artistry
of the craft; just thoughts
passing by, seem to surmise
multiple minds entwined
nothing more, but a tour
(DE FUCKING FRANCE!!)
of this psycho junkie sort,
sweet enterprise a-fancy
and though we have shown
immense power- in the past
it can only last so long
while I’m a limestone shrine
offered yummy blood..
being attacked by
indian scam-artists
in the grizzly dark
'who sent you here,
sirrah’ emboldened
to ask, and ever so
dread
them severed
heads
like the goddess Kali
(folly or not)
this stuntman’s oath
De fucking France!! love
De fucking France!!
love that