i remember when i was in france and
i hooked up with a boy a boy boy boy and
oh boy it was great. i was seventeen and
he was nineteen i do believe and
we hooked up that is we were hooked and
up in a lofty loft bed way up high and
the doors sang LA Woman below us and
he told me i was beautiful beautifool and
i believe i was a fool i believe i still am and
everything is far too craze-y crazy
8 Mar 08
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Jeezass Fukkin Khriced...and.
hell and damnation
fract, your comment is fantastic!
I liked this, but then agian i am commin down, and have had some retardation recently (last night) and i havent bathed in two days, sleeping in the same cloths, and my fathers jacket--that i pinched from the closet he uses in my room--close to me at all times. Craziness is the sweet endulgence, and piety is the opposing sour, which, like a lemmon has some sweetness, hidden behind overpowering sensations--on the tongue. Tongue to cheek is what makes life interesting; we need to be fools once in a while.
Nice poem, it displays that perfectly.
nice title, by the way.
Love is BuddaFull crazy - often the Fool is most the intelligent and plays in tune with wondrous splendours while finding heart shaped rocks by the Sea and laughing with the wind - often intelligent folks are Fools because they forgot to play and are crying because they don't see and wind up missing it all -- you captured that crazy electrical feeling that sends us reeling up to the ceiling and round and over and back up the spine as a tingling of sweet ecstasies divine like a tantric yabyummy
This reminds me of the T.S. Eliot poem, "Hysteria"