Author Topic: Post Ego Ganster Blues  (Read 1008 times)

Placid Dingo

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Post Ego Ganster Blues
« on: May 21, 2011, 12:43:45 am »
Whatís my name? I donít know.
Of course not, I burned it away with my ego
Put the fresh dust in an urn on a chest
Then French kissed death and rubbed my hands on her breasts
I rest for a night in a well spun fallacy
Tied around half truths and scented with aniseed
Fantasies entwine in my mind as I go
join the mile high club making love to my shadow
in the cramped bathroom of a higher spiritual plane.
Again, drawing sigils on a bullet-point proof vest
Caught a meme in the eye and legalese in the chest
A spiritual gangster, cock the hammer on my chakra,
Reload my thetans as the morning grows darker
Decode my feelings to break out from my insides
My spirit guide is child bride with dead eyes
Who still stares into space with an air of surprise
Too scared to replace this vacant disguise
I reject the our societies materialist patterns
Which seems noble before I admit all I believe in is atoms
I flatten myself between a rock and an insight
Close my eye and my mind and dissipate in the night
« Last Edit: May 21, 2011, 12:49:42 am by Placid Dingo »
If sheep entrails could in any way be related to the weather, i.e. sheep trails only originate where it rains, then you could use it as an accurate model for discerning what the weathers going to be like. Either, sheep shit makes it rain, or raining makes sheep shit. Sheep don't shit "randomly" sheep shit after they eat, it doesn't rain "randomly" it rains after water collects in the atmosphere.

Roaring Biscuit!

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Re: Post Ego Ganster Blues
« Reply #1 on: May 22, 2011, 02:00:52 pm »
:mittens:

Cramulus

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Re: Post Ego Ganster Blues
« Reply #2 on: May 22, 2011, 03:56:59 pm »
I dig, I dig