Son Of A Gun (200th Poem)

I know the bow is bent,
the room no longer silent.
The tune has turned to
something more violent.

I justify what I do I stay
sweet and say sweet words
that in the scope of things
one might find so absurd.

Kick the can make a sound
do your looks you cook me
violently like a breeze please
look in my eyes I seize.

Stop the mad things quit
the quip stop your lip miss.
For the more I implore I
can’t ignore I you try to kiss.

Think like a child fast I
sit I cry a lullaby nigh try
to supply a lie in disguise
as if some apple of my eye.

Juxtapose I suppose a rose
to unload and implode so
know I will eventually erode
don’t go slow a river it flows.

Kiss my lips you sweet child
and feel the real deal I kill
the vile in the river miles
I’ll take sleep you’re a pill.

I want your sin I want it
now and once more again.
Touch me close feel rough
is my grasp but sly is skin.

Entertain my brain I feign
a sane kind of remain of day
where the grass in fields
of rock grows a rose in clay.

Beauty from the sun’s begun
the conundrum of fun drum
of my own mighty kingdom
I am the original son of a gun.

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