Your spittle me spare your mind I find poor

Your spittle me spare your mind I find poor

7 January 2016

 

A rapid and hoarse rasping romance speech

A breathing of sorts song of love to quip

A trained thought yet coarse mind a Heart to breach

Derailing consorts between track and lip

 

From despair to lair tears lust alternate

Upheaval so plain loss of common sense

Oh my lady fair your lover’s a state!

Deceiving and vain the pride of pretence

 

The word and the quill a poet composed

The gift and the art a means to an end

Hegemony shrill as nostalgia posed

The whore or the tart was his merry friend

 

I lead you nowhere pray find me that door

Your spittle me spare your mind I find poor

 

 

The Black Eyed Peas – Shut Up