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

No comments: