My soul's for sale. It's partly used.
Some people think it's been abused.
It does have dents. I've spent a few
days on pavements pounding two
feet to meet The Man who buys
souls. I'm told his fortune lies
waiting. Stating this could be
reason for the Death of me,
so sell I will with coupled lines
like these. So please, if you don't mind
my ending, sending this brief tale
about my lovelorn soul for sale
to you, Do Not Resuscitate.
I'm too far gone. It's much too late.
The Hymns Of Hieronymous707
Ahem. I propose to posit prose poetry forming forms of contiguous connectivity to communicate considerable contemplative reflectivity. Simply put I pose this where prose poetry is what you hear when wondering where the time went while reading such rhyme wonderments as often wrought and revealed thusly each whit of wit written Hieronymously.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Corpus Christi
Jesus saved a pebble to
take up space within my shoe
to tenderize a hardened sole.
Jesus, He's just Dr. Scholl.
take up space within my shoe
to tenderize a hardened sole.
Jesus, He's just Dr. Scholl.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Ride Captain Ride
That Flacco Fool's got Fu Manchu
All on his face Now I do too
To show my faith with facial hair
To those who doubt I shout I care
About the outcome dumbly quiet
Lest such mustache cause a riot
Ridden here while the world watches
Wishing mention of their crotch is
Not what got them here and riding
Rhythmically on rhymes colliding
Consciously You see a Young like
Passer backing On his tongue Hike!
All on his face Now I do too
To show my faith with facial hair
To those who doubt I shout I care
About the outcome dumbly quiet
Lest such mustache cause a riot
Ridden here while the world watches
Wishing mention of their crotch is
Not what got them here and riding
Rhythmically on rhymes colliding
Consciously You see a Young like
Passer backing On his tongue Hike!
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