I feel a finality forming, birds fluttering reminding of
Nap Eyes and Paco Sala, pocketed stroll with nothing to do
Likke fu hsi and Hui Neng, Christmas morning in Plateau
it's a Kalau! kalau! kalau! to my Antashi lafiyas?
Ring road with cigarettes in my mouth
Trekking Angwa to Terminus or Lamingo or West of mines
They know and obscure that good sex can replace God. content is the supple breast of every poet.
They say he is the way... Nah he's the weight the scrutiny and the lie
Nothing good is ever fervently advertised
It's a slow completely Not down here where one is rushed up to a regimentation
It's a digital world every intention carry a weight
I intent, i say I want peace . I want to peacefully farm the food I eat and watch movies and documentaries
Everyday till I die.. it ain't much, it ain't such, it's a shush
Just as Bergman chose the Faroes, I chose a windy chill and constant rajn.
Here they enforce love in a quadrant- Whiskey peak
Devils controlling the spirit controlling them
Everything is a lie, fame, money, everything but the peace.
Yearning as a goad, its a lie as long as it is of this would, it's a lie
I dream of 30 acres for an ashram in Kuru or Riyom
Where I'll gently mark a spot for cremation.
Commiting to the slow, It's not you are not doing it but you are a specifically doing.
I feel a finality forming, birds fluttering remind me of
Glissandro and Sandro Perri - Christmas mornings in Plateau.
Trekking Angwa to Terminus or Lamingo or West of mines
They know and obscure that good sex can replace God. content is the supple breast of every poet.
They say he is the way... Nah he's the weight the scrutiny and the lie
Nothing good is ever fervently advertised
It's a slow completely Not down here where one is rushed up to a regimentation
It's a digital world every intention carry a weight
I intent, i say I want peace . I want to peacefully farm the food I eat and watch movies and documentaries
Everyday till I die.. it ain't much, it ain't such, it's a shush
Just as Bergman chose the Faroes, I chose a windy chill and constant rajn.
Here they enforce love in a quadrant- Whiskey peak
Devils controlling the spirit controlling them
Everything is a lie, fame, money, everything but the peace.
Yearning as a goad, its a lie as long as it is of this would, it's a lie
I dream of 30 acres for an ashram in Kuru or Riyom
Where I'll gently mark a spot for cremation.
Commiting to the slow, It's not you are not doing it but you are a specifically doing.
I feel a finality forming, birds fluttering remind me of
Glissandro and Sandro Perri - Christmas mornings in Plateau.
Comments
Post a Comment