WINE AND GATES
Mosey Over Need, Time Eats Yet Fate...
devil of the centuries
glue is on sail?
might with a pretty worry
the sea in your hair, habit to scale
maybe of late ladder's we are for lonely lads
that knew the tradition of a stewardship
thence in pennies, the hash adds
your jest is as good as mine, if a wind nippy
of your time with a plank in must's reason
of a guard and forthright salt to spite
if and utter, the shape of things to meager
this is your silent asp, this is your side of ask, why it?
that toe, is a wound to the nose
running in place, is a surmised poise of heading's
these and the rum of days of Joseph
that cloak was for the sunshine in a wishful wedding
pans of did, with a measure of sea shells
the pound of butter in the care of a bell
silence for a chance horse, the voice of quiet birds, lil'
the moisture of mushrooms, that knew the liberty of hell
which to date, is a Saturday?
the tooth cleaned was a dragon of honor, to serve a mutual musk...
to the mystery of a clay shadow
this ship was named "Adam's PotLuck"
here's what your thinking, to a rangey voice in the silk and merry
this is the sound of nothing, the more of a wishful berry
in the strength of choice, to flatter a curtness for the dawn to be harried
isn't a ladder of conscience the feat of a woman, the truth in a smoke, even the faery ...
Davey Jones says hyacinth
never the though of a sick eye, unless the dander lie of a thumb
in the share of a notion for a dubloon that said the laundry
even a gall needs a lover to be a clever beard, that needs a resourceful hum
glue is on sail?
might with a pretty worry
the sea in your hair, habit to scale
maybe of late ladder's we are for lonely lads
that knew the tradition of a stewardship
thence in pennies, the hash adds
your jest is as good as mine, if a wind nippy
of your time with a plank in must's reason
of a guard and forthright salt to spite
if and utter, the shape of things to meager
this is your silent asp, this is your side of ask, why it?
that toe, is a wound to the nose
running in place, is a surmised poise of heading's
these and the rum of days of Joseph
that cloak was for the sunshine in a wishful wedding
pans of did, with a measure of sea shells
the pound of butter in the care of a bell
silence for a chance horse, the voice of quiet birds, lil'
the moisture of mushrooms, that knew the liberty of hell
which to date, is a Saturday?
the tooth cleaned was a dragon of honor, to serve a mutual musk...
to the mystery of a clay shadow
this ship was named "Adam's PotLuck"
here's what your thinking, to a rangey voice in the silk and merry
this is the sound of nothing, the more of a wishful berry
in the strength of choice, to flatter a curtness for the dawn to be harried
isn't a ladder of conscience the feat of a woman, the truth in a smoke, even the faery ...
Davey Jones says hyacinth
never the though of a sick eye, unless the dander lie of a thumb
in the share of a notion for a dubloon that said the laundry
even a gall needs a lover to be a clever beard, that needs a resourceful hum
Comment On This Poem ---
Mosey Over Need, Time Eats Yet Fate...
Mosey Over Need, Time Eats Yet Fate...