#bobdylan?

Hey Mr. Tambourine Man,

Dya know your name,

Is being used by family wrecking whores?

To postulate that they they’re smart,

To showcase they have a grand plan,

Perhaps for the greater good,

Perhaps, to vet more phalluses,

But I don’t think it will take,

A weatherman to tell,

Which way their pussies are blown.

Ka-boom!

Oh, headsplits and splinters, go away.
Nasty litle tricks you play.
Deluded, hallucinating, is that you?
The water’s too cold.
And the sunlight’s too harsh.
The noises that sink in beautifully are a din.
Nimble fingers, shaking.
The wait’s over.
Enlightenment dawned.
The dance of the devils,
The sway of the wild.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel.
It will wait till eternity.

Mother Earth

Wrinkles in time.
Footprints in sand.
The lily in the pond.
The patter of the rain.
Illusions on a caravan,
In a desert of delusions,
The lure of the mirage.
Calling out, not there.
A madman and his whims,
A million stories of the sea
A flashlight and a path,
The sounds of the night.
Silhouetted and soft,
The jewels strewn across.
The water in the sun.
The black got blacker,
The air got thicker.
The tall towers passed.
Against the shadows dark.