where hypotheses come to die (madman101) wrote,
where hypotheses come to die
madman101

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Easter Poem

Easter egg, Easter art
Hard boiled head and heavy heart
See the dazzling show upon it's shell
Hid in haunt like some ne'r-do-well
Who will find this aching relic
Cracking, smelling, telling tales angelic?
Perhaps the Author would recall
Such a dud, or drop it off a wall
All I know is it's been dreaming
Waiting, planning, pining, scheming
For some sort of basket resurrection
To be back with friends and find direction
For so much steam and surface paint
Makes more a ghost and less a saint
And so you go along your way
And maybe you espy this egg astray
And maybe you would think to bight into it
Don't bother, there's only night all through it
No inner light or magic fresca -
Where would be life, there is a messca
Much the same as King the bastard
Who went on to things like mustard
Seeds and wine and crucifixion
What a life of loss and derelection
That's the song I sing, alone and lost
And waiting for to not get tossed
But held and humbled by some happy chick
Who knows my shell is not that thick
And my heart is just a jelly yoke
Go ahead and give a little poke
And take me on a tour inside your wonderwalls
So pure, so right, unlike my overalls
And have me for brunch, with crumpets
But dare you not, I beg, (with trumpets)
Put a knife to my heart and end it's strife -
I'm just waiting for fun, and a lot more life
And posssibly a wife.
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