Goldfields

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
some poetry i wrote after a profound experience and then added som chords with my acoustic guitar and some melody with my harmonica bracelet. peace

Submitted: March 12, 2011

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Submitted: March 12, 2011

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the bredcrum covered madress with red wine around, flickers in the light of the red nosed clown. the walls and doors have started to close in and the super green grass are like flames on a hill. over coughing engins the holy gal steps out. i see her in sunshine making love, telling lies. mona lisa, madonna and eve are all gone. in his basement mr.dotcom is moulding the next dawn.

when wil you bury me? wil i have to wait long? the policeman appears, selling bad atmosphere.

as purity comes floating over the flames, i watch in curiousity as it tickles two of my brains. the dwarf with his glasses quickly offers to fight. while the farmer looks down on him and says, "that's allright". i'd much more like an offering for my throat. if i asked for too much i wil go get my coat. at the same time as he gets up the sun wil colide, leaving only trees and the moon no place to hide.

when wil you carry me? wil i have to wait long? the fireman appears, selling nothing but tears.

incohesive, passive, shy and cowardly. the two legged calf watches his own destiny. the three eyed rat is still trapped in his jar and the white coats around him suggest that he won't get far. the man in the street gets violently beat. trampled by feet and blood on his bed sheets. there are no frames or outlines to this picture, as it melts away slow with me in it's heart.

when wil you marry me? wil i have to wait long? the postman appears, selling nothing but stares.

with out warning man takes his true form. cloaked and hooded and desperate and warn. but a sneak preview prevented him the end, so we are still condemmed and pretend to be friends. the low voice of nobody speaks to me clear. you can not see me or you can not hear me, cuz i am inside you and now you must release me. it's not that dangerous but slap a sticker on it to be sure.

when wil you tell me? wil i have to wait long? the priest appears, selling nothing but fear.


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