Wednesday, September 13, 2006

To The Little Yellow Acorn

Wilted seeds that fall from tress,
Often wrestle with insatiable weeds.
Like moonlight rays, and a midnight play,
Lustful sin blooms at night.
But when you lie, a phoney cry
My senses lose all bliss
I hate your kiss,
Or any such twist
Cause I’ve heard it all before.

Are the tears of what you see
Real, or just more jive;
The lion that used to till your den,
Knows another bee has been in your hive.

Forgive your trespass??
A Rabbi, I am not,
Should’ve thought of that long before,
You went and got all hott.

On the sidewalk, you feed nasty turtle doves,
And you ask me why I don’t love,
It’s a cool breeze you’ll catch in hell,
You and your demons can dwell.

My old trolls don’t dare come to stroll,
While you invite yours to a bedside poll.
Mockery and treachery, down in young Sao Paulo,
With a prostitute, you laughed,
But tell me, did you swallow?

So, my little acorn, I’ve previewed your new life,
So will you still eat from that farmer’s garden,
On more moonlit nights?

You freely gave your dignity, for laughs, and nothing more,
Regardless of your soil’s health;
But if so proud, when you boast for the crowd,
Why’d you do it in such stealth?

See, I dream and hope, and think mankind,
You think of only self.
Oh damn, I thought I knew you,
I thought I knew you Wish,
But you taught me bout a cold served platter,

such a bitter dish.

Now I praise this new wealth,
So I got to thank my small sad seed,
Which blow whatever way the wind go;
Nevermind, you think I don’t know,
Even if I never seen a pale rainbow.

My heart’s already been cinched,
I don’t need your stinkin' sent,
A rose is just as sweet.
I’m long past why,
Last lifetime I did cry,
So my eyes no longer bleed.

I’m not so mellow,
For an off-colour yellow,
Of that there’s no need to speak.
You sold my grasp, for a lustful clasp,
And now it’s time to pay the meek.