Das Mein Blom Poem by Robert J King

The logs do burn, I can ran along the world and still I do not burn, burning is the heart cut from wood - I will carve his face on on my notch - my enemies run from me, they never stop, I make them laugh - they do cry. They keep me going, nay they just run and run and run out into a black grave, oh they wish for grey, there hopes are just so......

I love a rainbow ev ery colour looks of patchwork, a small house, a stream, a river, enegy life I will never be stopped, I can shed my filth, people can see but a the butter I can lick and they all lust, I can do anything, they beg for my crum they beg for a curve of my, even the insane batter, buth they will not get it, they will get it they can dig into my garden, they can laugh as I point downwards, the can lick my fire which reminds me of summer in a secret Blonde haired siren, they can see though my glare, they can laugh as they flute, they can look into my chest, they can spin in my heart. But I am the rain, And I am the promise, I am like soft good health and I am like the Nightmare of the bitter first thing, .Let me die not, so you will always be blest. The sun is yellow but it is always on you let me be the the thought of a cool mercy and you will alway pierce me.