Fête

reallyshe

The tent of mystery the palace and temple of the divine is
This human body sauntering idly by in search of a cigarette
Who looks on grimly at this comedy with a weary air
Having exhausted all the pleasures of the fete

A savage dowered with a powerful brain
I like you none the worse for it
Bound to your chariot wheels if
Only to bask in your society laugh

About ubu507

memory documentation and manipulation
This entry was posted in art, Poetry, Poetry and Art and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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