pastimes 3
Friday, June 23rd, 200614dec,2008
Pastimes of a Princess
At palaster of words, a woman was resting
upon the timeless spell, lit at greait speed.
She found her mother affronted in between
mare’s of day and night, so she did hate,
and hate was sordid, a coil of protest
when had she greeted the vaste, unemployed
attitudes, and drunken from pillars of hope
the ambassadors of lust vanished for, ate her
arms, so work had to be done by others
None of lamentations could be heard at
and yoked to be spitted, waves as enormous
to bother for anxiety uploaded, widow leaned
at childhood trifling consciousness
She ate the boiling blood, a bacchiant
beautifully sustained, a work which
endured vulcanious wrath unaffected
charming old lady rules the patterns
puzzled up skin wrinkeled clouded trunks
mother I altered primal scream in sighing primrose
Tell me not You can’t be reached,
I’ll strike for Your favors, after surrender
Move me in a vortex, I ‘ll swing
me throughough, a knockout of license
God Ilove, sensing on deprived soul
Where are my words waiting for
the ear, what combination does open up
the unseen, a brand force, kept up
the egg as egotism it stumbles
tell her to be ladylike… as for the prince wants her to…