Dutch Irony

Party at my house.

Do you know what I hate? 

That you were right

that I can't stand to be alone

 at my own party in my own room in my own drink

alone in how i think how i dream

a rose risen a risen

a dove waxed in resin like how I listen to buddy holly

weezing on my night life

acting just as long as day light sucking beer out of a cigar

jack knifed lying on the carpet guitars are playing

trained in the pulpit and i only have eyes to see

a sight only in talbot a bit a drone even miss stone

lying in the road wanting a ride

 a sigh dyed in diet

a sticker a rope a cola bursting a bubble and a  fella bursting at the seams

talking fast in slick jeans

speaking only in riddles written only in slang

 I hide running in a high rise up stairs 

just to spit a spat off a balcony alchemy parking garage

 I pause to fourteens livn an dnot writing about nothing not good enough to sleep on

but hella good to dream on

for sooth, what dreams may come

hamlet oh hamlet to be ought naught to be

tis nobler still to breath in Shakespeare instead of smoke puffed o

n ash words, words wrote not toke

a token robust with a

new begging in the gin with lit written in wit 

littered a flame in pages of memory still.

 Fixed in a fake art education

intellect sealed with a zeal a pox in abbraision

conversion person to person

 in debt without justice

just in in just

a friend jilted and melded in  a memory log

 a jolt doth experience hog

jogged grogged joked and I laugh at myself

stubborn and flawed getting places placed put somewhere

and changing with a crazy twist wrapped and done with oranges on my breath

Reviews

[frivolous treasures]

Wow. You do have a way with words, sir. Maika'i no!