Posted on Jul 31, 2009
So Maybe it’s just the wrong time.
I ought to sit and drink some soda and lime.
I do wonder though on how true it could have been
But it was just enhancing her sins
Am I tired of thinking things through, maybe
too analytical?
I just want to be held like all the rest, is it so
mystical?
I’m tired of sitting here and thinking of my next step
Was it even there the first time we met?
I sigh, and sigh again, and get caught up again
with myself
My conclusions are perhaps too rough,
though she does it herself
Does it make me worst, does it at all, to try to
understand what I have?
To question my fate, to rationalize my life, at
least just half;
Truly unfair to those who are all but just,
perhaps I am just another
Who claims boldly as a hypocrite, but if not
me how about the other
Although somehow we all still manage to
dream at least once in a while
Then we wake up and our memory is as narrow
as the Nile
Away! I do seem to hear time tick tonight
Reach for a cigarette and an ol’ light
And quietly I seem to bump into the depths
of my mind
Deep dark blues and bright orange reds and all
other behind
Looks to his side, in hopes to see despair, his
eyes just seem to glare
Into the very oceans of time, again serve him
a soda and lime
His heart rings as do chimes, beats as rhythmic
rhymes Where is the soda and lime?
What he seeks for truly he will never know
He claims for passion and a love to grow
Reckon’ it not someone in need
Mind quickly seems to feed
Eyes lusciously strive to lead
and then he remembers to wet the reed
Play, play it so softly, softly indeed
Melodies of passions, he does here seed
Dusk is up, misty, thick, tiresome need
Love the quest he forgets indeed
Is he afraid to let his passions free
Acceptance, again he did forget me
For the touch is mere brief, as our autumns
breeze
He procrastinates pleonastically free and so do trees
And whoosh, the breeze let free
Ode to the Wind, so cold let be me
Out, out, sweet candle, the flame I must and
now to see
For it has compressed, now his body and
heart’s chimes
And where in the hell is my soda and lime.
His foot is trapped in a deep well
And no one knows that he dwells
He knows he will probably end up in hell
Although his heart and mind he won’t sell
and it rings so deeply, the long deep bells
Love is now a hard spoiled spell.
It rhymes; it rhymes, and still rhymes
And no one has gotten the soda and lime.
Hark! He seems no more. And realizes what
death is for. His body is just a mechanism,
used the day he was born. Truly seems to
drive through thorns
And then dusk to dust, the day we go under,
I hope his day, there will be thunder.
And roar the spirits high up in the sky
For now he can no longer lie.
His soul is out, and roar the loud thunder
He has condensed, down to dust, his body
now under
To say that it was just a pest
His mind and heart finally rest
He seems to smell a funny fish fillet
No it’s just me asking for a cigarette
The sound of flint, sounds like a roster
His lighter the other monster
Long in the distance echoes the suns
Crying to him, he confesses no puns
The choice, so strong, he doesn’t want to run
He doesn’t want a sip, not even a bun.
Flowers of magic, do blossom in time
Look around, no, damn soda and lime
Uncovers caverns of dust, oceans of lust
Feels though he must, myelinates rust
It was never just, must, though touch her bust.
And it is over, for its mere brief time
Yet no one has heard him call for a soda and lime
Peregrinations of true water blue,
So softly run through, and the lime
And the bubbles, who is to say:
He just wanted, I don’t know, perhaps his
heart to stay.
Survivors do seem to please, fascinated,
As others do fine wine and cheese
And the stars, you can’t forget the stars,
Are they really far, stars, a far, seem to
Shine bright as do the nights stars,
And then he finds himself to spar
Does he ever lock them all in a jar, and
shakes them over and over, until they break.
Actually, he freezes them, an Ode to the Wind
And Eyes still wanted through the stars,
Eventually they freeze and souls become a far
The alarm clock rings, and turkeys all sing.
To his heart love brings, does now want to do
handsprings.
His love always king and he hears them all
chitterling
Was that it, was it everything
His love races, and now blossoming.
He sees the strings, asks for a Singapore sling,
His mind, wing-ding, some suicide on
chicken wings
Conditioning now it truly is deciphering
Devilling, ding, ding, ding
Afraid to answer, he is cautioning, ring, ring
The oceans of time, the sea-king, ding, ding,
ding, he sees everything
Even a gold wedding ring, ding, ding, ding,
what is it, horrible thing.
Ding, ding, ding, his love now christening
and she will keep oiled her long luscious swing,
Ding, ding, ring, ding, the bellowing he
echoes this evening, bewildering ding,
Ring, now has entered a into full swing,
disfavouring
Life is now foreshadowing, ring, his feathers are
feathering.
Remember all the fingering, and where are
all those suicide chicken wings,
Rings, the chimes, all those chimes, and no
one has thought of his soda and lime.
Ring, ding he is now hardening. Oh! How
sickening his love now travelling in him
perishing, and her witnessing and labelling.
And him simply wondering, love worshipping,
love offering, while she is slandering,
and love is trafficking, so unflattering, riches
showering, his mind reasoning, his heart
muttering, the world so unpitying, his mouth
whinnying, and she still voyaging, his heart
weathering, slowly slaughtering, boiling and
simmering, though he keeps pondering,
soon uttering, all his loves, all come to life so
imprisoning, his eyes hardening.
And he smells a funny fish fillet.
And no it’s just me wanting a cigarette
So in offering, the night give him a soft
tender light.
His heart now free, mon petite amie
And no voyage is too long, neither is a mid
park dong
Ha, hell it might as well be a sick song, and
the world still bends over and gets donged.
Oceans of Maritimes, and her rag-time, they
only see the crime and still no one has heard him
call for a soda and lime.
On board a long replay, expressway, subway
And asks the control tower for the next available
runway
He taxis it there though, real fast, as if it were
a screenplay
Oh yeah!
The stars, the stars, he heads for the Milky
Way.
He will just be a protégé en roué up the
stairway, jackals and screams; he rolls the
dice away, into his own mind’s stray, and
always remember to pray on the Lord’s Day.
Love exists on Christmas Day, and those who
role play on dark fun Fridays, and she still
wants to swing with the corvette, Chevrolet,
perhaps even a cabriolet and also pray on
Easter Day and the day he dies, the skies will
roar, a deep, deep shade of grey.
Never misplay on those long Mondays, nor
have a halfway holiday, his love émigré,
downplay, foul play, but deep his love will
stay, and you away, okay.
Grab another speed way, he’ll see you in an
espresso shop in San Jose, light a cigarette,
now and today, aha!
Delicious, sweet, they all go away - invite
me to your wedding day.
His life in coordinates like a positive type
parabola, the conspiracies are now secrets
of his mafia, join me for that wonderful
opera, please, leave your heart as it’s turned
into bacteria. Instead have a pizza, nah,
you’ll get insomnia, just unwind, let me
unbuckle your bra, and soon ourselves lost in
a forest peninsula. Petite green pois, the new
phenomena, life, etcetera
Is it now supper time? Only sometime,
usually in the night time, for him prime real
time, and you know what, no one has gotten
the soda and lime.
I ought to sit and drink some soda and lime.
I do wonder though on how true it could have been
But it was just enhancing her sins
Am I tired of thinking things through, maybe
too analytical?
I just want to be held like all the rest, is it so
mystical?
I’m tired of sitting here and thinking of my next step
Was it even there the first time we met?
I sigh, and sigh again, and get caught up again
with myself
My conclusions are perhaps too rough,
though she does it herself
Does it make me worst, does it at all, to try to
understand what I have?
To question my fate, to rationalize my life, at
least just half;
Truly unfair to those who are all but just,
perhaps I am just another
Who claims boldly as a hypocrite, but if not
me how about the other
Although somehow we all still manage to
dream at least once in a while
Then we wake up and our memory is as narrow
as the Nile
Away! I do seem to hear time tick tonight
Reach for a cigarette and an ol’ light
And quietly I seem to bump into the depths
of my mind
Deep dark blues and bright orange reds and all
other behind
Looks to his side, in hopes to see despair, his
eyes just seem to glare
Into the very oceans of time, again serve him
a soda and lime
His heart rings as do chimes, beats as rhythmic
rhymes Where is the soda and lime?
What he seeks for truly he will never know
He claims for passion and a love to grow
Reckon’ it not someone in need
Mind quickly seems to feed
Eyes lusciously strive to lead
and then he remembers to wet the reed
Play, play it so softly, softly indeed
Melodies of passions, he does here seed
Dusk is up, misty, thick, tiresome need
Love the quest he forgets indeed
Is he afraid to let his passions free
Acceptance, again he did forget me
For the touch is mere brief, as our autumns
breeze
He procrastinates pleonastically free and so do trees
And whoosh, the breeze let free
Ode to the Wind, so cold let be me
Out, out, sweet candle, the flame I must and
now to see
For it has compressed, now his body and
heart’s chimes
And where in the hell is my soda and lime.
His foot is trapped in a deep well
And no one knows that he dwells
He knows he will probably end up in hell
Although his heart and mind he won’t sell
and it rings so deeply, the long deep bells
Love is now a hard spoiled spell.
It rhymes; it rhymes, and still rhymes
And no one has gotten the soda and lime.
Hark! He seems no more. And realizes what
death is for. His body is just a mechanism,
used the day he was born. Truly seems to
drive through thorns
And then dusk to dust, the day we go under,
I hope his day, there will be thunder.
And roar the spirits high up in the sky
For now he can no longer lie.
His soul is out, and roar the loud thunder
He has condensed, down to dust, his body
now under
To say that it was just a pest
His mind and heart finally rest
He seems to smell a funny fish fillet
No it’s just me asking for a cigarette
The sound of flint, sounds like a roster
His lighter the other monster
Long in the distance echoes the suns
Crying to him, he confesses no puns
The choice, so strong, he doesn’t want to run
He doesn’t want a sip, not even a bun.
Flowers of magic, do blossom in time
Look around, no, damn soda and lime
Uncovers caverns of dust, oceans of lust
Feels though he must, myelinates rust
It was never just, must, though touch her bust.
And it is over, for its mere brief time
Yet no one has heard him call for a soda and lime
Peregrinations of true water blue,
So softly run through, and the lime
And the bubbles, who is to say:
He just wanted, I don’t know, perhaps his
heart to stay.
Survivors do seem to please, fascinated,
As others do fine wine and cheese
And the stars, you can’t forget the stars,
Are they really far, stars, a far, seem to
Shine bright as do the nights stars,
And then he finds himself to spar
Does he ever lock them all in a jar, and
shakes them over and over, until they break.
Actually, he freezes them, an Ode to the Wind
And Eyes still wanted through the stars,
Eventually they freeze and souls become a far
The alarm clock rings, and turkeys all sing.
To his heart love brings, does now want to do
handsprings.
His love always king and he hears them all
chitterling
Was that it, was it everything
His love races, and now blossoming.
He sees the strings, asks for a Singapore sling,
His mind, wing-ding, some suicide on
chicken wings
Conditioning now it truly is deciphering
Devilling, ding, ding, ding
Afraid to answer, he is cautioning, ring, ring
The oceans of time, the sea-king, ding, ding,
ding, he sees everything
Even a gold wedding ring, ding, ding, ding,
what is it, horrible thing.
Ding, ding, ding, his love now christening
and she will keep oiled her long luscious swing,
Ding, ding, ring, ding, the bellowing he
echoes this evening, bewildering ding,
Ring, now has entered a into full swing,
disfavouring
Life is now foreshadowing, ring, his feathers are
feathering.
Remember all the fingering, and where are
all those suicide chicken wings,
Rings, the chimes, all those chimes, and no
one has thought of his soda and lime.
Ring, ding he is now hardening. Oh! How
sickening his love now travelling in him
perishing, and her witnessing and labelling.
And him simply wondering, love worshipping,
love offering, while she is slandering,
and love is trafficking, so unflattering, riches
showering, his mind reasoning, his heart
muttering, the world so unpitying, his mouth
whinnying, and she still voyaging, his heart
weathering, slowly slaughtering, boiling and
simmering, though he keeps pondering,
soon uttering, all his loves, all come to life so
imprisoning, his eyes hardening.
And he smells a funny fish fillet.
And no it’s just me wanting a cigarette
So in offering, the night give him a soft
tender light.
His heart now free, mon petite amie
And no voyage is too long, neither is a mid
park dong
Ha, hell it might as well be a sick song, and
the world still bends over and gets donged.
Oceans of Maritimes, and her rag-time, they
only see the crime and still no one has heard him
call for a soda and lime.
On board a long replay, expressway, subway
And asks the control tower for the next available
runway
He taxis it there though, real fast, as if it were
a screenplay
Oh yeah!
The stars, the stars, he heads for the Milky
Way.
He will just be a protégé en roué up the
stairway, jackals and screams; he rolls the
dice away, into his own mind’s stray, and
always remember to pray on the Lord’s Day.
Love exists on Christmas Day, and those who
role play on dark fun Fridays, and she still
wants to swing with the corvette, Chevrolet,
perhaps even a cabriolet and also pray on
Easter Day and the day he dies, the skies will
roar, a deep, deep shade of grey.
Never misplay on those long Mondays, nor
have a halfway holiday, his love émigré,
downplay, foul play, but deep his love will
stay, and you away, okay.
Grab another speed way, he’ll see you in an
espresso shop in San Jose, light a cigarette,
now and today, aha!
Delicious, sweet, they all go away - invite
me to your wedding day.
His life in coordinates like a positive type
parabola, the conspiracies are now secrets
of his mafia, join me for that wonderful
opera, please, leave your heart as it’s turned
into bacteria. Instead have a pizza, nah,
you’ll get insomnia, just unwind, let me
unbuckle your bra, and soon ourselves lost in
a forest peninsula. Petite green pois, the new
phenomena, life, etcetera
Is it now supper time? Only sometime,
usually in the night time, for him prime real
time, and you know what, no one has gotten
the soda and lime.