Anthony Edmond John


The Very Words Your Morrow Was Just Waiting For....! ! ! - Poem by Anthony Edmond John

Heavy shootings and more,
Primitive lead Automatics and their ancient songs, Contemporary Lasers and
these sights of your futuristic DNA-CONTACT-ELIMATOR and more,
Please lets speak to Rome....The very place the revolution will erupt,
Where in this filthy universe will earth's volcanoes gather to Feast and Campaign,
Solitary Military base stations...oh! My lord do take my mind off all these waste,
destruction and sacrificial human flowing blooooo...

The world has gone Deaf and Numbly cold...Alas! All of a sudden she belches a
deep belch,
She has becomes so sweet, warm and cuddly,
My fists have clinged this tight to my wise Quail,
Do Imagine a situation where quails deactivate your high profile bombs like
knockouts or popped chewing gums,
The purge...Our upsurge neither your salient Beards nor Your aged eyes will
hear nor witness such Grave Wars, Disasters, Hate, Destruction, Madness
and....such truthful Bliss...

On later Stages..Pulpits..Podiums and on your fiery Pages shall we uncover the
mystery of those unborn generations who will see tears as flowing blood,
Salute my Napoleone, your Hitler and many kisses to adore this Satanic cool
YANSH,
We the 'Kings of Rome' have seen our impending Doom,
Tell us Now Great Sir...What next steps shall we take,
What shall be done to a-tone for the World's excess iniquities and more,
Maybe a consortium of like minds writing to drive away looming angry clouds,
Still... must there be jacob's troules?

Tell my Grandmothers that we will never take them too far away from their
brooms and Quilts,
Granddads must all cherish those moments Smoking pipes,
In a way, Tommorrow's mind must drift,
Goats must learn to eat minced meat and Salts,
Tell Gretel I love Smoked Salmon along with the freshness of Coconut liqueror
and plumes,
In those Fiery steaming Jungles of tommorrow did i see Marijuana prepared like
Stewed Chicken soups along with a glass of Strong Shepe,
Marijuana broths eaten along with one chicken, Two Mice and a Happy Bowl of
spiced Coconut Rice,
My waists are heavy with Dance..do come lets Prance! to those days of Perfect
Bliss,
Perfect Bliss...Salient Peace after..and only after the Coming of that Revolutionary
Purge.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, June 14, 2008



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