jim morrison is dead

Have I passed my prime
as a musical promise?
Yes, I'm afraid.
That journey's faded
the drive's really not there
I just pick up my guitar and
strum a few haunted chords
and hope something new comes along

I'm feeling disenchanted with myself
where did I go wrong
I could've done more
guess it boils down to
being a faker in a world of
earnest do'ers

Please spirit give me chance
grant me direction
and discipline
I beg of you

thank you

Thank you creator
for your strange and mysterious ways
When I thought I was leading
I was being led
to things better
more fruitful and rewarding
tho I was sent to hell and back
I touched the hand of malice
I laid down with sorrow
I do not wish to beg attraction
but thank you onlooker
look the other way there is something
more for your wanton eyes to survey

Anyway, upon reflecting I thank you
I know things can change at anytime
And they always do
chaotic universe
a fork in the road
with a cosmic superhighway
of exits and merges
and rest stops

Which one will you choose?
it's more like a merge of lanes
where you've been
is largely seen in the rear view
and the future sometime comes through
bug spattered lenses
or tops down and free firing cylinders

enough with that trite metaphor
(it seems I'm stuck on this subject)

back to the topic.
thank you soul creator
giver and taker of life
divine inspiration
mystery of our beginnings
and ends

thank you
you ugly beautiful beast
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

here I am again repeating myself....

On another blog I mention the horrible metaphor between a peach and a womans nether regions. and here I return to see my last entry witnessing a strange fruit which swings and make a metaphor to very different similarities..........so pathetic....

seasons change

cool morning
crisp air
birds sing in the treetops
and what is it that
which hangs from the cherry tree limb?
why it's some strange fruit

My, how I like the way it sways
in the sunlight
It's still there in the moonlight
kind of a waxy fig bloom

I ponder the time to pick it
just when its ripe
ready to fall from its stem
I hope its soon
because the limb sure is-a bend'in

kerchunk kerplunk

mmmmmmyeah.......
What a week or two
what a month
I went without water
for days
I threw up my lunch
It was green and blue
lick with sickness
smelled of rotten
roadkill blisters
tap her on the side of the head
push her into the brine
down deep my darling
your legs have become entwined
with seashore weeds
and mollusk shell skins
scrape your hide
off your side
and lie you on that couch
to grin
plummet cascade scream
through the atmosphere
ugly truly i'll be here for years
you see I am writing this from prison
cell block 39
they give me access
they give me time
to think about the things
I've done
wrong or right
they think they'll fix me
nah. they're just waiting
for me to die.