I ask you friends can It really get any worse
Not only have I emptied my poetic purse
This damn sun has dried up all my morbid verse
And I feel like a broken down, battered old Hearse
All the trees are blooming and covered in colour
I want naked dark cold empty skies, it's such a bummer.
I wish I was in that cold, dreary dead country called Russia.
For how can I write of depair during this happy horrid summer.
Everyone is smiling and I cant even bloody cry
I just want to get a paintbrush and paint black the sky
If this sun doesn't return to its happy place I will surely die
A poetic Martyr scorched like a dead squashed fly.
So come, come pound these streets with rain-
fill my thoughts with despair and blessed pain.
I dont want to be like everyone else-happy and the same
If we was all like them, Marilyn Manson would never have found fame.
Free my muse and let it sail in the chilly dank air
And release this miserable shit from their poetic lair
Dedicated to all us miserable ones out thier I hope this cheers you up....... oooops I did not mean that.... I mean..... Inspires you all.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, Vincent, I am feeling so despondent now, and dreary, and a black cloud is hovering, and woe is all around me, and despair, etc., etc., etc., What a poem of lost hope. Surely you can see a little light shining somewhere? Good read. Makes a change from the happy ones. Eh? By the way, just to say go to your messages. Love Ernestine XXX