To My Prison's Psychiatrists
- Byron
- Posts: 3171
- Joined: Tue Nov 26, 2002 3:01 pm
- Location: Mad House, Eating Tablets, Cereals, Jam, Marmalade and HONEY, with Albert
To My Prison's Psychiatrists
They’ve read the books
And done the tests
They’ve looked inside my emptiness
They’ve turned each page
And scanned the lines
To weigh my worth
Compared my crimes
They know me well
Their eyes unseen
Do they dream the dreams I dream?
Have they screamed the screams I scream?
I think not
I think not
Take your tomes
On brains and bones
Take your texts
And write abstracts
This soul is not for learning.
And done the tests
They’ve looked inside my emptiness
They’ve turned each page
And scanned the lines
To weigh my worth
Compared my crimes
They know me well
Their eyes unseen
Do they dream the dreams I dream?
Have they screamed the screams I scream?
I think not
I think not
Take your tomes
On brains and bones
Take your texts
And write abstracts
This soul is not for learning.
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
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- Posts: 1874
- Joined: Mon Jul 08, 2002 3:37 pm
- Location: Bangor, N.Ireland
The Soul
The lady's not for burning is not for burning
a soul is not for learning, for learning
it is just for yearning, just for yearning
the secrets, the secret's of the green grass
now that the apple of torture, apple of torture
his sacred feet did pass
and the relationship, the relationship
of that Holy, that Holy fast
the sancriment and the bloody glass
revolutions come and revolutions of the past
the secrets of here and the secret names that last
the echo of the fallen and the echoes that do not surpass
the infinity milk from the possums of the class
that teacher divide and disappear up their own ass
Love................Georges
a soul is not for learning, for learning
it is just for yearning, just for yearning
the secrets, the secret's of the green grass
now that the apple of torture, apple of torture
his sacred feet did pass
and the relationship, the relationship
of that Holy, that Holy fast
the sancriment and the bloody glass
revolutions come and revolutions of the past
the secrets of here and the secret names that last
the echo of the fallen and the echoes that do not surpass
the infinity milk from the possums of the class
that teacher divide and disappear up their own ass
Love................Georges
Last edited by George.Wright on Sun Jun 29, 2003 2:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
I am a right bad ass, dankish prince and I love my Violet to bits.
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- Posts: 1874
- Joined: Mon Jul 08, 2002 3:37 pm
- Location: Bangor, N.Ireland
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- Posts: 1874
- Joined: Mon Jul 08, 2002 3:37 pm
- Location: Bangor, N.Ireland
Byron~
Thanks for the tip on this oh-so-accurate poem of yours. (Never let those kinds near me, either!)
Down there in that "well"
Looking up into a patch of sky...
Perplexed and caring partner
Could not fathom, but would try.
Then a Friend was Sent:
"You're not 'below', but high 'above'!"
So 'twas, by sheer faith and will,
Beheld and upheld by Love...
I dived right into that patch of sky!
~Gennelle
Thanks for the tip on this oh-so-accurate poem of yours. (Never let those kinds near me, either!)
Down there in that "well"
Looking up into a patch of sky...
Perplexed and caring partner
Could not fathom, but would try.
Then a Friend was Sent:
"You're not 'below', but high 'above'!"
So 'twas, by sheer faith and will,
Beheld and upheld by Love...
I dived right into that patch of sky!
~Gennelle