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I Am Not The King
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#11
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of paradise.

isnt the true poet the one who inspires? few if any can compete with samuel taylor coleridge. cept for our sirus i always thought.
 

SIRUS

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#19
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of paradise.

isnt the true poet the one who inspires? few if any can compete with samuel taylor coleridge. cept for our sirus i always thought.

i'm in the very early stages of preparing a succinct poem that discusses the plight of nasal congestion caused by colds and viral infection.
i shall be writing each stanza in a different language to descirbe the essense of the multicultural battle it displays upon us as a unified society on this planet.

i have also written a short piece about the growth of man and the testing problem of waste disposal of mans best friend. in lamens terms it's a stirring, nay, harrowing piece about the battle with man and dog shit.

man did first but crawl before his stance upon feet
a triumph for verticality, a triumph for humanity
humanity gave to the leading of canis familiaris
to alleway infestation of poop logs and vast piss
instruments can clense an unfortunate sole
but can never the canines bowels control
 
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