waxing poetic

Nov 05, 2006 20:03

e.e. cummings, you retarded fucking GENIUS.

I kiss
you on your pencil-punctured
oblivion and applaud,
for the beauTY of your
weather
ed soul
GLOWS
like the embers of a neverdyingfire.

My favourite poet, mr. cummings, I now present to you.

suppose
Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a
smiling,a piece of money held between
his thumb and first finger

(i say will he buy flowers to you
and Death is young

life wears velour trousers
life totters,life has a beard I
say to you who are silent.--Do you see
Life?he is there and here
or that,or this
or nothing or an old man 3 thirds
asleep,on his head
flowers,always crying
to nobody something about les
roses les bluets
yes,
will He buy?
les belles bottes-oh hear
,pas cheres)

and my love slowly answered I think so. But
I think I see someone else

there is a lady,whose name is Afterwards
she is sitting beside young death,is slender;
likes flowers.

Additionally.

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And.

L-was-on-the-screen-and-he-talkie-purty-and-I-LUFF-HEEM-SO-VERY-MUY-mm-hm-Yes-Please-More-With-The-Kinky-Handcuff-Sex.

e.e. cummings genius retard

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