Random, childish poem of a thought sent out.
Monkey nuts slappin’ against a stranger’s face
makes a sweaty forehead sound loud.
All a person’s laughs and cries
can all be fit
into an imaginary bucket
full of truths
and lies,
then dumped out
onto the ground
as they all evaporate into the skies.
Thoughts are unfound.
Interactions seem unbound.
My mind is alway as deviant
as a chick who has her panties down.
Some people,
you tell them things,
and they never make a sound.
Other people,
they come ’round
in reciprocation
and act a clown.
When the Feds show up at your house,
you know you’re as busted
as a nut.
Ring around the supposey,
pocket full of nosey, nosey.
Assholes
Assholes
Your smell makes me frown!
You’re never stuck down in a rut.
The wind blows,
buckets of love
all get shoved
aside by those who are searching
For the stuff that dreams are made of.
To they, I say, “neigh,”
the truth only comes from a horse’s knowing,
as it needs to be cold
before it can start snowing.
Truth is only heard in the wind that is blowing.
Everything else you hear
is only inside the mind,
bitchslapping us in its own,
due time.
Against the wall painted anew,
the monkey flings a devious poo.
Who knew?
Monkey sea,
Monkey Dew.
Strange bullshit
from me to you.
Not directed At you,
but now you have it.
You can keep it.
An unflung wall waits,
anew.
