DRUGS, bad peaple taking bad drugs,
and they fall into the night, with
their mouths open, and arms open,
and they beg, we wont more, and more,
more of the same, but first shut
the windows, lock the doors, turn out
the lights dear brother david, and
clean my mess when im gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A TYPICAL GERARDINO PENNING, LACED WITH THE REALITIES OF SURREAL DREAMSCAPE....NICE WORK...FRANK