Some call me WOMBAT others have me PATTI
Some name me PIRATE... I am unborn.
Some speak of me in anagrams,
some grieve upon my wart...
the ones who give me beverages
I grant soft-porn.
My words are
‘Fool’, ‘lolwut’, ‘wtf’ and ‘k’;
My home is in Atlantis and Finland.
My name is locked in silence,
sometimes it’s whispered out of spite,
I shy away,
my introverted kindness,
there is no place for fright.
Will you please come to me
and love me for one more night?
Some see me whining, others have me dull;
bum and mason - I am ALL.
Some swear they never
see me quoting myself...
at the moment of the post see them fall!
Some die as they see me urinating,
defecating and vomiting:
troublesome constipation is my pall.
My faces is robed in choclate,
sometimes it’s cleaned in the bath,
dead writer’s fool,
they are so weak and fragile,
and I like them to play with me.
Will you now crawl to me
and love me for one more day?
Some wish me empty others have me full,
some seek for my hands - I’m a GNOME.
Some look for me in gardens,
some trace me in the woods,
my mathematic plunders:
are no good.
I chronicle my poems,
my stories and my lull,
my pirate voice shall progress
- it is done.
My soul is cast is potato chips
yet unrevealed in open bag.
Sometimes I cry with the appropriate emoticon
and all ease is mine.
Will you not run for me
and love me for on more life, fool?!
Edited by The Sleepwalker - May 14 2010 at 13:22