Shaman
on a trip I took one time, I never left the house,
tiny little charachters, the only sign of life,
took one hit, then one more, then I lost the count,
colors tasted beautifully, I felt so damned alive.
Trying to remember, what it was I meant to do,
in my mind, all sense of time, like a Dali painting,
little people everywhere, saying to surrender,
I left them in a cloud of dust, ran just like a cheetah.
In man made time, everything seems like polarization,
meant to seperate us from lifes little tiny triumphs,
broken hearts, starts and stops, all hate will be denied,
corporate people from L.A. sent to check reaction.
By the time, I wind this down, back to bleak decadence,
you might well ask yourself, was this worth the effort,
anytime I touch a pen, another legacy invented,
still I wonder to myself, was this mental masturbation.
2007-06-08
10:17:45
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15 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry
I love the last stanza Annabelle. I thnk it's perfect.
2007-06-08
11:59:23 ·
update #1