Sunday, September 23, 2007

You can't give what you don't have.

beggars love going to houses that dont give them anything....
a thought to my mind spring....
falling in love with greater beggars than themselves
is now a fashion statement and a new thing..
single barreled poet
from which asshole
did he spring...
tring tring tring..
internet connection
linked to her head phones
roger roger over
some happiness brings..
an empty stomach
an empty heart
but a new muse
that gathers me up
writing poetry
stretched out on her gossamer wings
empty vessels ...
water rushing out of leaks
from vicarious voluptuously volatile vaporized vociferous vituperative springs
a wizened weasel like heart of a poet whose lecherous lyricless libido links
tring tring tring..

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