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Bird People Poems | Bird Poems About People

These Bird People poems are examples of Bird poems about People. These are the best examples of Bird People poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

Eyes of a Child

Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.

I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.

Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.

Beside me standing hand-in-hand, older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.

I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.

But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.

I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.

A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.

This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.

I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.

The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.

An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.


Details | Verse | |

Birds Of The Same Feather Flock Together

Birds of the same feather always flock together


A fool fools those who can be fooled
A thief roams the streets with his fellow thieves
The miserable saddens those who allow themselves to be miserable
The naive are played by those who are naive of karma
The materialism catches those who are materialistic
The disrespectful hurt those who have no self respect
The aggressively insecure intimidate those who are submissively insecure
The fake trick those who are inexperience of faking
The dumb roll with the most dumbest

If you are either happy, successful, humble, educated or anything positive; make sure you flock with the feather that's most positive and important to you. 

KNOW YOUR WORTH; You cannot exchange gold for stones, that's making a foolish loss. Positivity is always an addition(+)  not a subtraction (-).  If you are subtracting, don't be suprised if your life turns out to be mostly negative.

IMPATIENCE is the mother of all COMPROMISE, that's why people flock with the wrong people, don't let it catch you..

THE EYEZ are easily fooled, all that glitters isn't gold (things can be gold plated too), so carefully check things. As They say "FOOLS RUSH IN WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD."

NOTHING IS CONSTANT; Money comes and goes, the famous become infamous, friendships ends, beauty fades, people pass away etc. Do not rely on external things to make you happy, once they are gone you will awaken from your dream. Internal happiness is constant; the externall should just make you happiER. Humble yourself and know reality.

INEXPERIENCE is the mother of all REGRET. Life is a journey of experience, never make the same mistake twice. At best surround yourself with the most wise (listen and consider their counsel) so not to make mistakes at all.

THE GUT INSTINCT, if it doesn't feel right it probably isn't. You have either compromised too much for to little or you are blinded or you put ur happiness on external forces which are not constant or you are inexperienced in the ways of life.

ITS ALL IN THE MIND, remember to CONTROL IT, TRAIN IT and to ACT IT OUT and watch yourself rise to a different level in your life.

WAKE UP; a bird who flocks with the wrong birds wakes up sooner than later and flies to his kind of feather.

THE MESSAGE; a bird that flocks to you with patience, sincerity, passion and unconditional love is definitely for keeps because they are  worth more than gold.


BY HUSSEIN FARAH
Written 24/02/2012


Details | Ballad | |

From The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand - THE RUINS OF THE ANCIEN REGIME




Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.

He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.

With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!

Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.

Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.

Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.

So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!

God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.

Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?

"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.


Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.

Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si


Details | Rhyme | |

Chicken Karma

Written in 04 when there was a chicken flue scare...Peter

Chicken Karma.

Chickens fighting back with Karma
Coming down with chicken flue.
People watching all those years now
{people being me and you}
Watching all those cruel fellows
I'm the same I watched it too.

Creatures kept in little cages
Beaks cut off to make them meek.
Never seeing sunny weather
No room to move, of this I speak!!
And now us folk be getting worried
That chicken flue our deaths will seek.

Well I be saying "ain't my fault"
But me, I've ate that chicken too.
And I knew what folk were doing
I'd seen the cruel things they do
And now that karma's getting closer
Will the world go down with chicken flu?.

Dec 30 2004.


Details | Free verse | |

MY FRIEND


In a dreamlit night, I looked at a star
Like a bird without a flock.
I do not want to call solitude
What it is,
Because there are other flockless birds
Somewhere in the distance.
Yes, my friend,
We do not have to see each other
To know each other,
Because you cannot see solitude,
Yet you still know it;
When solitude wants you,
Look upon a star
And you will know that you are not alone,
Because many a gaze is friendly with the star;
When you pass a flower,
Know that it is your friend too,
Because you did not thread upon it.
  
When you see a bird in a cage,
Let it loose,
Because it sings its most beautiful song
When it's free;
Yes, my friend,
Friendship is like freedom,
Boundless and limitless,
Like space in human thoughts;
  
When a raindrop falls on your palm,
Know that it fell on the palms on many
Like a young friend;
When sorrow comes knocking at your door,
Speaking of the world's injustice,
Know that you are not alone,
Because my heart beats
Just like yours;

When the wind whispers to you
About its thousand years of wandering
And loneliness,
Know that you are not alone,
Because it whispers to me too.

Yes, my distant friend,
Solitude is not ugly
If it isn't forced upon you,
Just like friendship
Isn't friendship
If it is forced upon you.
Wonderful is the friendship
Linked by spontaneity
Like a bird's link to freedom;
Wonderful is the friendship
Linked by space
And nature;
Yes, my distant friend,
We do not have to see each other
To know each other,
Because if we do not meet during our lives,
Our souls will doubtlessly
Meet in the white heavenly fields.


  
©Walter William Safar
  
  
  
  
  
 




Details | Ballad | |

The joy of the pheasant shoot

The joy of the pheasant shoot.

Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough 
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.

Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.

I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.

10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs




Details | Ballade | |

In defense of the chook



The chook defense

Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..

If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.

Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?

That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful

10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.



Details | Free verse | |

How Can A Bird That's Born For Joy Sit In A Cage And Sing

I am the wounded, standing 
nude in thy midst
Showing to your eyes the 
stripes of thy iniquities
Tears dripping down my chin 
as drops of rain from the grey 
clouds
My face wrinkled with the pain 
of the violent conflicts within 
this ancient house of stones
My body bruised by the 
whipping of your politics and 
democracy
My hearing deafened by the 
loud cries of innocence and 
justice crying for their freedom 
of being
my soul blackened and 
sorrowed by our loss of sense 
and hope of morrow
The memory of our heroes 
which in its remembering
should teach us not and never 
to be inhuman again, 
Is but a mere miasma to this 
generation of a people who are 
victims of the lash of tyrannism 
A people whose sad silence is 
audible from the quiet Limpopo 
banks to the turbulence of the 
Zambezi flow
From the wonderful sights of 
the eastern mountains to the 
frightening caves of the 
western side that harbor the 
spirits of our ancestors
A people that woke up 
everyday with an unutterable 
question of survival,
A people I stand up for now 
with a blasphemous finger to 
this council....
'How can a bird that's born for 
joy sit in a cage and sing...'
We shall cry!!


Details | I do not know? | |

Singing in the sun

Some birds sing in the sun
Others sail through storms
Some folks were born to have fun
Others to slave in many forms

As I sit on this stone of introspection
Staring into the pool that is the world
Do I see the reflection of success
Or just another form of madness?


Details | Senryu | |

Bothersome Bird-woman

That one sweet moment
when the harpy's song is gone
Peace, once again, reigns


Details | Free verse | |

Bird Lady

City and county judges have ruled against you.
Despite the court injunctions, you still feed the birds.
There you are again, up at five-thirty in the morning.
You have thousands of seagulls and pigeons flocking to the street.
The noise they make can wake anybody up out of their sleep.
They defecate all over.  The street is matted in white.
Those flying creatures are insalubrious.  They bring diseases.

Birds get plenty to eat anywhere else they fly.
They can cover hundreds of square miles in a day.
You feeding the birds is just like putting Donald Trump on welfare.
You also have to steal to feed your dogs and cats.
How can you keep seventy-five of them in your house?
Are you the reincarnation of St. Francis of Assisi?
I can’t wait to see the day you are evicted.



Details | I do not know? | |

Falling....

FALLING....
Many times I wonder, many times I think
What if weren't people but rather birds of green

What would really happen when hurt comes into play
Would we burn our feathers and turn in birds of gray?

From being green and proud
From being free in flight
From singing songs of happy
Would drop with all its might

And distance to the ground seems long and full of pain
That's when the feathers burning and turn birds into gray

If we had only known the dangers of this life
Predictions of the future, all obstacles of flight

The sun that's burning feathers
The wind that throws off course
The rocks that people throw
Don't ever feel or show a sign of some remorse

A long drop to the ground the bird is taking now
With no hopes for happiness, no hopes for life
The trees, the sun, the people are now all in gray
But wait ...The bird of purple meets you in dismay


And you begin to wonder just maybe for a day
You can try the purple and put the gray away

The purple bird is singing and cheering you on
It shows rainbow colors and tells you to move on


Forget the pains, the burning
Forget the color gray
Forget and start forgiving
And let the colors stay...

When moving through the motions of grayness in our lives
Try to look for purple bird that might be out of sight
 
Just keep the heart wide open
And let the colors in
Remember life's true formula --
The beauty is within.....


Details | Verse | |

Election Day

This autumn morning with the birds waking up
and the leaves changing is Election Day. I meet
Jane Trichter on the downtown subway and discuss
Henry's upset. Her skin is soft especially her cheeks
and she is intelligent and sensitive. The subway riders
do not recognize their representative.

All day, at the office. I accomplish nothing substantive
but I keep the aides and interns working
and cheerful. On Tuesdays there is always a wave
of constituent complaints, by telephone. One woman's
Volkswagon is towed and the police break in
to get it out of gear. Do they have that right,
can they tow even though no sign said Tow Away Zone?

It is an interesting question but I try to avoid
answering it. The woman persists and succeeds
in committing me.

The people at the office want to bomb Iran. A few Americans
held hostage and therefore many innocent women and children
pay the postage. It may be good classical logic to hold responsible
the whole society for the acts of a few, however, then
I must begin to expect the bomb and the white cloud that waits.
Apocalyptic visions are popular again
but we are more likely to thrash the earth to within an inch of its life
than scorch it to charred rock.

Corner of Church and Chambers,
German tourist's language, accent repels me
although I wasn't alive 45 years ago
and many sweet, great Germans opposed the crazy Nazis
but lately I've read Primo Levi's If Not Now, When?,
seen William Holden in "The Counterfeit Traitor",
have followed the argument started by revisionists
who say the Nazi atrocities never happened.

War brought many shopkeepers, bookkeepers close to their earth,
weather, seasons, death.
I see daily life as low-intensity warfare
as my father, the World War II vet, did.
Off to work we go. What is war?
Population control, mother of invention, diversion
from the work of making life permanent.

Today is Election Day and because it's a day off
for most municipal employees, the City Hall area
has been quiet and easy to work in. Henry and Jane
hold a press conference on teenage alcoholism.
Leslie, the other aide, who I'd like to draw
the stockings and clothes off of and feel her whole body
with mine, goes home with her mother, leaving me
standing by my desk with my briefcase at the end
of Election Day.






Details | I do not know? | |

First Flight

The bird took off into the sky,
Spreading it's wings for flight. 
A gentle breeze eased it higher,
Yet further from the ground.
The mother bird gazed on intently,
Protective of it's young.

The bird was gaining height so fast,
It's mum now a mere dot.
The older birds flew up above, 
Swooping and diving for fun.

The bird looked down in anxious fear,
At the houses far below.
Never had it been so very high, 
That people looked so small.
To him they were now tiny blobs,
Not bigger than him any more.

The breeze around him suddenly ceased,
And the bird started drifting down.
The people below were no longer blobs,
And his mother was entering view.
As he was swooping back down to the nest,
He took one last glance above.
Still the older birds were playing, 
Not a single care in the world.
They hadn't to worry, they hadn't to work,
For they had already learnt to fly.


Details | Senryu | |

Early Bird

wake early each day

opportunity awaits 

slumber gets nothing.....


Details | ABC | |

Blue Bird

Blue Bird

All alone inside of my magical little paradise called my mind is an peaceful and quiet, the sun is like a gentle kiss on the cheek, and the people are just so warm and friendly but watch out because if you open your eyes everything you once knew will be gone. This magical little realm has an bloody little twist to it. The sun that was once as comforting as an warm blanket was in fact the glistening moon and the empty black sky, and the people are now all blood thirsty monsters that are no longer affected by the sun light are now out for blood.

I run to escape the sickening but yet oh so enticing scent of blood and failure, I run to escape the screams of those who's lives were cut just too short, and I run to escape the sight of the undead, blood thirsty zombies who are on the hunt for others to join their group. I'm running, running to safety and security but all the time there's nothing but pit falls and traps. I'm running and success isn't that far away but just then I see prince charming I stop and become distracted by his promising words but just then he too becomes a monster. I scream and try to run but I just can't you trap me in fire and I can't escape. 

My mind goes numb, I can feel the darkness further enclose around me, my mind goes blank, and I forget about everything. On the inside I'm screaming, fighting, kicking to get away but on the outside I'm a love sick puppy. I know I'm stronger than this but there's something about you that I just can't get over. Just as the darkness seems to grow closer an light appears and an blue bird fights off my nightmare monster and takes me back to my snowy paradise where I'm safe and at peace and I continue my lonely dark and cold path to my brightly lite future with the little blue bird by my side reminding me that I am and will forever be loved by both my family, people who actually care about me, and god.


Details | Haiku | |

A Nocturnal Bird

a nocturnal bird…
its eyes intently watching,
laughter’s on the ice


Details | Verse | |

Pressing On

She watched the mountain intently
Like a bird who’s nestling of dwelling, complains
Yet, neither will move --
Reality blooms;
A surge of genius
Strikes the hollowed core ~
Worrisome thoughts she shan’t abide…

A mother’s love still strives,
Strong willed fledgling must now -- fly
Search to build, its -- own nest
-- Mother bird soars above the mountain -- mind at rest 






Comments:
An elder once said teach them well in the ways they must go… Like a hawk one must keep a 
watchful eye for they are still your prizes; you never know when they may come home to 
roost again... Or at least visit…
However, if they can't respect the home then its time 
For them to fly on their own...


Details | Haiku | |

haiku 9: shootings



     haiku 9: shootings

the birds were chirping---
butterflies played in the air;
then there was gunfire.


Details | Concrete | |

The Bird

                                     
                                        Soaring high, 
                                                         Up into the
                                                                  Limitless sky,
                                                                          A traveler,
                                                                    With its red feathers
                                                                 Exploded, into force, like    
                                                                An airborne ranger, enjoying
                                                                 Its freedom and it never 
                                                                   Worries what to eat
                                                 And, what to wear like a poet
                                      With his silvery quill, glowing
                    Inside, his soul, yesterday….….....today
                                                   Tomorrow and forever!
                                                   A master, of his words
                                                     His life, free to write
                                                    And, never worries
                                                 When to stop, nor 
                                                   To die, for his  
                                              Poetry, will be 
                                       Remembered
                                                By
                                              Someone
                                                           


Details | Free verse | |

Bird

Your need lingered over me, 
Demanding and squalling, 
Drowning me in your 
Chaotic desperation, 
And suffocating the memories 
We might have made. 

Though you heard, 
You would not listen 
To the pleadings 
Of long lost visions, 
Even as they danced 
Before your eyes. 

Then you mistook 
My vulnerabilities 
For weaknesses, 
And mounted your encapsulation 
With grand fortitude, 
Masquerading as love. 

My belief in you 
Was shattered 
By those bruised moments, 
Irretrievably committed 
To the dedication 
Of your definition. 

So came the day 
When your audacity 
Compelled my strength 
And I would not surrender 
To your abuse, 
Regardless of your lies. 

Now a powerful bird finds 
This place heartbreaking, 
For the soaring dignity 
That will never be -  
Because I will not allow 
My wings to be clipped.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Dream Of A Caged Bird


I want to erase this present tense of disgrace
in my life and quietly sway like a night bloom, 
waiting for great Northern stars and the moon
to satiate my spark less eyes and to embrace

Me with their warmest winks. You see, I dream
of morn seagulls, scattered like Autumn leaves 
and wish to share them a breath that still lives
and my imaginative thoughts, sitting on cream 

Summer dawn with a bottle of pungent aroma
for a companion. Let me, please, be me! Erase, 
erase in my life the present tense of disgrace;
let my dream dreams, free from your enigma!


Details | Ballad | |

A Familiar ~Black Bird~

The sun spoke not a word to me,
its voice enshrouded by arrays
of ever thick'ning cumuli,
though silent too their whites and grays.

Peculiar not was such a sky,
save what I saw within its flow:
a solitary Nevermore--
the very same that tortured Poe.

It smeared the cloudy firmament;
foreboding was its lofty flight.
How very strange it was indeed
to see such pinions pierce the white.

What other reason could there be
for such a wicked thing to stray
but serve as devil's advocate,
for mortals did it see as prey.

And as I stood with eyes affixed
on morbid Nevermore's visage,
its conic maw let loose a caw;
twas not therefore a winged mirage.

Perhaps it wished to plague my soul,
the faculty of living flesh,
for that I knew it watched with zeal;
till madness rang, it wouldn't rest.

"Begone," I cried from humble earth,
"you shall not roost within my mind!
Return to hell from whence you came;
too strong am I for you to bind!"

Discern I did its ill intent,
and so elude I did its curse,
but still it looms on kindred days,
and for you I do fear the worst.

Much like the portrait-bound Sir Gray,
withhold your sight from whitened air
in which the candle has no tongue,
for such a wretched roof is where

misfortune's black familiar flies:
a crooked singing Satan's-eye!


Details | I do not know? | |

Blue Bird Of Happiness

It's funny, how the first precious gift you've given me
Had coincided with a certain song I keep hearing.
I always started dreaming
Of seeing you again,
After I made our friendship disappear for two years.
I went from crying tears of sadness
To tears of gladness.

The skies and the seas are always my true blues,
Seas that were as deep as me missing you,
And the sky
Is where the gift that came from you
Flew away.
It came back to me spiritually
And it's given me my old strength again.

My memories of me and you
Shall never end,
Because I know, that no matter where I go,
My blue bird of happiness will always
Show me the way back
To where we last left track of each other.

Now I truly feel that we are best friends for real.
Seems like we'll be friends forever,
If we are not
Then I will always keep my most prized treasures.
Because you were one of my bestest friends.
Thank you, my friend
For my blue bird of happiness.


Details | Free verse | |

You Know I Did Love You

…on a Sunday morn, against the ever watchful
and furtive glances of bird feeders, who enjoy
the occasional, yet so gentle breeze; 
the vibrant façade of this kirk and voices of hummingbirds,
in the rays of my morning orb, you suddenly appear

before me, with echoes of our yesteryears;
your sad, sad face reminds me of happy, happy times 
that you once etched in my heart; now you came, with desire 
of wanting me back, I know, for I can feel it
as I listen to your whisper to the wind “I still love you!”

“Great, just great! You know I did love you, 
but it is too late now Honey!” my eyes silently answer;
…the vibrant façade of this kirk and voices of hummingbirds 
have already intertwined, with resounding wishes 
and marching of bird feeders, to part our ways, for eternity.


Details | Free verse | |

Oasis in the city

Black painted steel gates as you enter the premises 
Trees brought in from all over the world 
laid here on this land unfurled 
Gardens like heavens before me 
Many a funnel spoken by priests  
here in this quiet place for the deceased

Small walkways lined with stones names to me all unknown 
Filled with history and majestic and silent mystery 
Quaint roads are listed by name 
No two are the same 
Paradise indeed, marvelous bushes and shrubs 
It has be noted there are many bird clubs 
that venture here
 
Some buried with ponds on their plot 
Numerous bird species flock to this place 
A haven for people with names and no faces 
Tranquil water gardens trimmed with flowers 
Many people come here to walk for hours

A church stands right near the entrance
It’s medieval in appearance  
One hundred and seventy five acres of  
 Victorian-era contemporary gardens 
from natural woodlands to formal ornamental spaces.
A beauty here that truly embraces  
The Cemetery is widely known for its meticulous maintenance
And its charm of acquaintance 



(This is a historical place in Cambridge Massachusetts founded in 1831) 


Details | I do not know? | |

Free as a Bird (2004)

The Beatles said it’s the next best thing to be
But how can one ever be really free?
Everywhere you look there are walls of constraint 
Some people never utter a complaint
They don’t want to break free 
So long as you’re not causing harm
Why does life and people bite of your arm?
Wish you can go and no one would know
Wish you can choose the one you want rather than need
Wish your spirit was freed?
It’s the next best thing to be I heard
 Free as a bird


poemsbyrb@hotmail.com


Details | Etheree | |

A Blue Bird Watching The Sad People

Sky
Deep blue
Blue birds fly
Through endless light
Watching the people
Rushing around their lives
Never noticing beauty
Only seeing unhappy lives
They should look they should see what they miss
See the beauty of the world before them


Details | Lyric | |

I'd Do It

   If I were a bird 
What kind of bird would I be
If I had no soul 
My soul would would be free
If I could lie down 
On my bed all night
Just think and look up at the sky
   I'd do it
When they say I'm crazy
I say they're right
and prove it
lets do it
   I wanna do it with you
Baby lets run around the world
Lets get caught in the blue
If you asked me to get in trouble tonight
I'd do it
  If I wanted to 
To go and get lost
You know I'd have to
Just go along
You try to make me
To take me
Lay me
But you can't rape the willing
Cuz I'd do it
I would do it


Details | Verse | |

No cows to look at

No cows to look at
I hear the truck traffic

Everything changes like clouds
The page this poem is on burns

Coming from the funeral with friends
Talking on the telephone

No trucks to grind their gears
I hear the minute hand moving

Birds and people inhabit the earth
A black bear inhabits the earth, too

A rock in the sun
Calligraphy brush

In a mind there is apocalypse
No one can hear it