Scott Clark, 1 kwietnia 2022
Lit’l child, were ya ben
O’er the Sun or with yar kin.
O’ May’e with yar friends jamin.
Scott Clark, 1 kwietnia 2022
Colden’d touch, eyes a stare
Loved one’s gone, tis unfair. Unfair. Unfair.
Mine arms could not reach in that darkened lair.
It has her there. Her there. Her there.
I pray my kisses softened that dreadful pang.
May this n’er happen again. Again. Again.
Scott Clark, 1 kwietnia 2022
At times I see you afar, in mind’s eye,
Calling this heart and affording a sigh.
A bit o’ pause, a bit o’ rush.
Listen girl, the silence…now hush.
Ah, that my tears had wings!
And my grief be heavenward
My soul bluely sings
A price none could afford.
Tears are never bought nor sold
Yet they are sweet, precious and never grow old.
Scott Clark, 1 kwietnia 2022
In the morning air you can smell them bloom,
Those bless’t sweet Roses,
Beyond a bitter room.
Could tear- filled eyes can ever sway
Those lovely things on a lonely day?
Scott Clark, 1 kwietnia 2022
Breathe o’er here, oh, Constant Blue and let those lips be fair!
Blow yer fife fine, tickle this ear, and let yer nothing be new!
Ida, find that blowing sucker and give ‘em less than full
Whilst I dance me merry twiddle feet round and round ‘da stool.
Scott Clark, 6 stycznia 2017
Meandering in this timeless age
Soft spoken sage.
Each day – a page
Never read
Forgotten
Written- none the less.
Wandering through Cronus ‘ realm
Lying discreet under Ouranos Elm.
In wit – dull yet overwhelmed
Enough said
Trodden.
Some thoughts I cannot express
and others suppress
Avoiding bigoted confronts – they impress
They - Narcissists
Me – Anarchist
Nether – Antichrist
Sign in / sign out
Scott Clark, 7 czerwca 2015
Fuddled feet on moldy banana,
found it be Shramana Karma.
Oh Fate, my blessed, then took me under,
Behemoth blunder, - legs asunder.
Body met ground we made wild wonder.
Oh, the thundah!
This Shramana Karma!
Scott Clark, 25 maja 2015
At times I see you afar, in mind’s eye,
Calling this heart and affording a sigh.
A bit o’ pause, a bit o’ rush.
Listen girl, the silence…now hush.
Ah, that my tears had wings!
And my grief be heavenward
My soul bluely sings
A price none could afford.
Tears are never bought nor sold
Yet they are sweet, precious and never grow old.
Scott Clark, 9 czerwca 2014
Mean as stirred grit,
reach in
and pick none of it,
Load bullets,
Frick it.
Its just grit.
Don't need this... shit!
Or that... to wit,
just my bullets,
Power slivers,
make ya shiver,
and dem quiver.
They will deliver
Believe me,
you'll see....
Pea!
…...................BANG!!!!
Scott Clark, 9 czerwca 2014
The dreary days of yesterday have gone about the morrow,
while we dwell in this fine day lets forget about our sorrow.
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