A Green Dog Loves Decent Purple Dandelions
A Green Dog Loves Decent Purple Dandelions
I knew I had it with me
It gave me so many great ideas
Shaped them and formed them into poetry
Lately the words do not come to me
They mix together and become incomprehensible
I write, “A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
That won’t make sense to anyone with some drugs
I want to write
I want to create something special
“A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
What the hell does that mean?
They came from my fingers through my keyboard
My fingers were controlled by my mind
What was my mind thinking?
What was the imagery I was intending?
Christ, I wish I knew
He won’t tell me what was in my mind
I don’t think he would want to know
I just know one thing
With lines like that my mind is not with me
It left with a bottle of Kentucky whiskey
Travelling on its own
My mind is on vacation to a different planet
A planet in a galaxy so many light-years away
It may never come back to help me be creative
“A green dog loves decent purple dandelions”
That may be the last line I ever write
And THAT would be a hell of a way to be remembered
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