PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Hi crazy how do you do?

I'm just fine, how  are you?

As swell as bananas covered in green, Listening to sun dance music, listening to dreams.

Sweet, that's nice, and how is your cleaver?

Sharp as ever thanks for asking, have you seen my bat, are you intrigued by acting?

Dirt, I love dirt, so low to the ground, it smells of failure and it is so proud!

Rub it all over my face my pants my cardboard box, that I will soon be living in because it supplies my rocks

Such as windows and frames and panes of sorts that tickle my indulgence and take me to court

I will escort the sort of insane that you claim to be I will widow your heart into a pale of no dreams

Burning in pity and skys of blue until you open your eyes into the green hue of dew

HAHA!

you fool, you are a tool, you walk in hinges rusted by the piss of creatures of doom!

You hush now sir, for you know who I am, I shall do the insulting upon myself you innocent man.

You innocent pitiful sad little sam, I outta take your hair and throw you to the depths.

There you may sit and sulk and weep, there you may cower in a dark lonely sleep.

For now, this crazy man is to be noticed I'm not falling apart I'm shredding my skin, and than I shall melt, for the light of this so called holy magnificence is what's going to kill me for it's as elusive as a dream upon waking, so take your morals and throw them to the sharks, their blood thrusting teeth will welcome such insanity like a brick in a tree!

Ridicule my behaivor as much as you PLEASE, who am I to stop you from killing a bee, a creep, a wallow, an ugly swallow, ankle deep in shallow. From head to toe don't you know that I have been alone, roamed through deserted streets of angry gnomes of chrome, I welcome fury for it's all I see take your peace and love and things of such nature, I've tried it I SAY, and it existed never. I gave it shot and that is gone, call it giving up or whatever the hell you want, but the fact is that the bark of a tree is as solid as rock, through red signs I go and green I stop, you can take all that crock and shove it into a pot cook it and eat it and shit it again, you can call me sam winkle, you can call me smith, I do not care, Do I breathe air or is it toxins, from the foulness of your words that claim to know, just what the hell my message pertains to yo. I'll ask you nicely but really I'm mean, my teeth are yellow and gangly and they wish to defeat, so you can plead with innocence you can maill me your letters you can take all my thumbtacks and stick them on a steel fist headed right for my face, locusts will swarm over the defined crevices that peak within my brain and there they shall dissolve any sense of 'sanity' left.