Sunday, August 21, 2011

Bad Poetry...

Another thing I did a lot more back in 1991 was write bad poetry. I filled my sketchbooks with tons of weird stuff.

Ah, the moon is bright
Such a comforting sight
I sit on the front porch
My light supplied by a torch

A girl whom I met
Me, She'll soon forget
I play the stubborn fool
I realize I'm not cool

My hands are full of tension
Wanting to commit sin
Not that I like to judge
But my brain is fudge

I should not be jealous
But I tend to make a fuss.
When I can't get my way
I wish for words to say

Oh, I can talk quite well
With a that's from hell
Talk too much about nothing
Words that I should not sing

Man, It has only been an hour
But I feel a drained power
Jealousy to make me insane
God please ease the pain

I know it's my fault
I can be a foolish dolt
But I am who I know
So goodbye I gotta go.

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