Silver Star - 3,374 Points (JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Death **** - Poem by GRANT FRASER

You want a death ****
I'll give you a death ****

Death ****
**** death,

It was so rank,
it stank
of what was once alive,
It crawled out of a strange
crevice, beady eyed,

And never once
let itself be known...

I stuck my mind
into it whole,
and humped it heavenwards,

Black tear,

Thrilled to be back
because of something
so trivial and small,

For it stank of the same

Of course death requires
a nose,
So I'll provide one for
this poem,
the biggest conk
you've ever seen,

and you know what that
means ladies...

Until the pivot scrapes
your divet,

Death ****
**** death,

Orgasmic state
of the death climber,
at the point of reaching
the summit,
rattles and rolls,
until life shatters!
into one last breath,
with a twelve inch
diamond hammer¬!

**** death
death ****,

Death throes,
woe - woe - we shall
only die once,
without hope,
unless it's
the next world?

I'm not trying
to be negative,
but remember,
is part of the process,

At least something
is beckoning us,
and hence -
the starlight butterfly,

To change the inflexible
relics of the dead,
which are man made,
and the funereal style
of doom,

Death ****
**** death,

With musical clocks,
and the inimitable style,
until the rock in your
hungry breast solidifies,

**** death,
death ****

I am the gun barrel
and you are the rust,


I am the gun barrel,
and you are the rust,


We are both the gun barrel,
and the dust,

With a fight to the death,
for the true sweet -

**** all!

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 26, 2013

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