Monday, May 18, 2009

no more


Talk to me no more; I am weary of your cries, like Americans are of their fries

 

Talk to no more; for these emotional roller coaster rides make me sick and those motion sickness pills don’t work no more

I am done and dusted, resigned and retired; let me just be and maybe we will be alright

 

But please don’t make me listen to barking bards and their silver bullet suicides anymore

Or make me read the maxims of minds gone ashore

The middle-men have done their part; even the rotting carcass they don’t spare no more

 

Leave the Buddhas be

If you have found one within yourself preach no more

And if you haven’t; pray for that silver bullet suicide some more

 

But talk to me no more

I’m plain tired of fingers that wag

And tongues that lash

 

If it was fingered to make me see your love

Then in return let me give you two

And if you can count; you’ll see that through and through

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