A Bodacious buttblast of snow on Mount Beird

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    A Bodacious buttblast of snow on Mount Beird

    I crashed my car one night,
    while driving on a snowy road,
    up a masonic lodge,
    where elk and bears,
    charm the guests.

    I hated that cabin,
    It was full of braggarts,
    of a Fezeus and a GOD,
    that blocks my calls at night.

    It was the highest point,
    on the peaks,
    and I thought,
    GOD and Zeus
    better fucking answer
    the door.

    I walked to amber opal door,
    I knocked,
    They said, "Oh shit, dude, hide."
    I left a note with a K-bar to post it.
    It said,
    "I.O.U-One Car. Eat shit!!!~GOD"

    Stole his 1999 Jeep Cherokee,
    and left a dog turd for the Good Old Dog,
    He'll think twice,
    when he demands me to
    marry his Bitch Of a Daughter.
    In a beautiful, beautiful shotgun wedding

    ~Zeta

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Cysonne’s Poems (11)

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