I Wash My Feet To..(..Well Sometimes...Every Time When You Are Around..( Poem by James McLain
I Wash My Feet To..(..Well Sometimes...Every Time When You Are Around..(
We came from dirt whats with all these
neuritic freaks who move it from pile to
pile under the rug.
Humble is a foot in some mouths may
they all be washed clean.
Treading paths well worn in the....other
....persons shoe
do you not leave traces of the path on all
the others to.
If the lumps on the rug were a chest would
it need larger bras every day..hear me say
..I'm talking to you..
Fools are fools pretending you are means
your not when you say that you aren't are you
smarter than some in the dirt of your mind
trying days in the trials of your wife.
Dirt that flees has a quick broom behind it as
any good man in a mind full of dirt really should.
Sometimes I wash my feet to when you are
never around.
Some times I'm out and about just playing the fool.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 7:12:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
favorite lines so far: “If the lumps on the rug were a chest would it need larger bras every day..hear me say ..I'm talking to you..” I wash my feet sometimes, and maybe play the fool as well. I am a bit of a dirt-neurotic? , but it varies with the dirt and the circumstances; I’m talkin’ ‘dirty dirt’ or germs! soil is usually ok, I think, but I still wash my hands and feet. we all have some ‘dirt’ in our lives of some sort. my mind may have some kicking around in it; some of my poems too. and I know, James, that you have trouble with some words. I guess you sometimes use “to” when you mean “also”/”too”. bri ;)