Thursday, July 22, 2004

the world according to gripe

life is bad, the sea is rough
and the earth is shaking my lonely bed.
forests conspire and paper deliver
every coffee is made on a pyre
reasons are there, and the threats remain
sometimes i have to be wary, of that very thing
soon enough, the bread arrives
leaves me thinking of all the bad vibes
the jeep swerves, misses the cow
somewhere a man is shot, for not looking out
bombs explode, the earth shakes
it morning again, as my twin alarms make

look out, look out, there is a storm approaching
the sea turned black, and covered the skies
there are no birds and the spray is in my face
whenever the boat rolls, i am looking at solid granite
rolls of rain, hit the boat all the time
we are thinking what an exciting fun thing
it could have snapped, or i could have died
but i was collecting stories
for split second awes
exxagerated imagery and the movies we see
make a life threatening storm, just another coffee table story

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