The Shrimp Festival Of The People Poem by chris bowen

all night long fireworks.all night long, songs.you got a right to be wrong plays from the palace.joss stone on a throne, britney spears, no malice meant.im just bent and i sent a shooken look at turtle creek before, lets explore a little more.me? i adore the war torn affect of amelia island.all the things and looks im buying.im not trying to equate to new york state, but the fate of the land held by man must be greedy, damn! ! ! ! the slamming all effect, to effective to elect.i want a sect who bulls like me, bowls like me and stroll's...like me.the fee of god, to use an i-pod, i wont be hot but i'll live.if i ever go in i'll give.the streets are full and the nine is pulled.the wool over the eyes of the country five.city fathers, we are martyr's of an invisible war, a war never fought before on american shores.to keep our shrimp festival we have to die every death.you lose then accuse and strip it all, what is left? give.see the world.the flag has turned to a pretty girl.the miss of this is, dont be a star in the sky if you want apple pie.and dont die, the children cry.and the children weep themselves to sleep, instead of reading of mickey, and little bo peep.