Just a series of taps,
Deeper into that hole,
No that hole,
Just a series of taps,
All their holes,
Any hole you can imagine is here,
Just a series of taps,
Illegally legal & immorally moral,
Just a series of taps,
Finger tip mantras,
Normalise our naked youth,
Just a series of simple taps,
The Algorithm stealthily sells innocence,
To the slave market of the MAPs
Vapid morning light
fails me, while you passes down.
And immorally
I can not help but make your
reflection in my liquid.
more then
a turtle totally
the true meaning of
a shell will tell mortality
cursing
immorally
immortality
don't even speak
shut up
please let's
look at the shell
we all live in but don't
call
home
though all so
fragile hide ourselves
but this
this was his
life and the life and
times of a humble turtle
he within
his self held
a shell of love for all
those who knew him well
Ofilio
DEAD SNAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAIL
SNAKE! I see you!
I see you tightly curled around that rock
waiting, in your evilness
to attack a man, passing. Why?
I walk this trail, daily, almost.
It is something I have to do. I
did not see you yesterday. Were you here then,
lurking evilly to get me?
Or were you hunting, as God intended,
to secure your subsistence? Perhaps you were
enjoying Nature's radiance on a sunkissed
asphalt trail, a creature's bliss, sustained by God?
now, here you are - -
DEAD! That rock killed you. It
lay on your head, immorally thrown
by one who hates, or fears you.
It could be nothing less
that caused your death, oh snake.
Primordial fears, shaking hate
casts man into a reality of . . .
Killing snakes. Because . . .
The snake was feared,
The rock was there
and loathing man,
knew no better.
REFRAIN:
(Who else would wantonly kill the creatures of God
until the scent of their beauty, the taste of their bounty,
has dissolved into a wistful dream of barrenness?
Man, the hating antipathy of Nature's burgeon.)
Here is a tale of the tail
She put herself up for sale
She took his money
And gave him her honey
A street walker in the neon night
Doing what is immorally right
Bending over into his car
She wants to make him tonight’s star
They got to the ho-tel
And on the pad he fell
His arms and legs bound
She went around and around
Took his bread
Closed her spread
Split in a flash
Gave her daddy the cash
On to the next one
Before the rising sun
Did what she does best
Making everyone her guest
Found dead
On the bed
Throat slashed
Bread cashed
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