Sunday, November 2, 2008
Keeping The Tunnel
I live adorably aboveground,
Acute clearage is promised from the upper stations.
The building is ablaze, abiding in sin and hatred,
Breathing with bread and butter can be lonely
And hard, far too hard that bodies shall mash and briskly burn.
The enemy is too harsh on our soul, as souls are in now poverty,
And states of mind must be obeyed, force is a new compartment.
My conscious mind is commemorating a day too distant from today,
As cures are like the illnesses, currently in crisis, formally bound to heaven,
Or hell, as the problem states.
We fail and deliver bread and butter to our friends and foes,
Living ashore is near the water, far too soft a planet.
My dead friends must never die, they must be in hurt
If they deserve it in heaven.