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Voters: 7.
#1
The rhythm's in the dripping rain, the rotting trees, the peeling paint

And I turned to see
an amber leaf
fall from a great Mahogany-Tree
but when they
all held still I
thought to My-
Self,
shit... it's all just plastic Department-Store shrubbery


Bubblegum

Good night and good luck;
I miss the sound of the fifties
although Camus pisses me off.
I'm into philosophy, but La Peste
has never been my thing.
And still..
I miss the sound of the fifties.
It's been a long time since I entered
a pub and heard Elvis on the radio.
It's been a long time.



Untitled

“L’essenciel est invisible”
is what le Petit Prince
once told us. Yet we still
seek for it, in life, until
death
makes us unseen.