Your spittle me spare your mind I find poor
7 January 2016
A rapid and hoarse rasping romance speech
A breathing of sorts song of love to quip
A trained thought yet coarse mind a Heart to breach
Derailing consorts between track and lip
From despair to lair tears lust alternate
Upheaval so plain loss of common sense
Oh my lady fair your lover’s a state!
Deceiving and vain the pride of pretence
The word and the quill a poet composed
The gift and the art a means to an end
Hegemony shrill as nostalgia posed
The whore or the tart was his merry friend
I lead you nowhere pray find me that door
Your spittle me spare your mind I find poor
The Black Eyed Peas – Shut Up
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