psychobabble Relish
By Darmok
The beauty of your execution, is a matter of contention that elaborates the realization of what is and what is not. In so much as I yield unto that which is unspoken I am resolve To speak of it, that which is not said. Beyond that which cannot be reached by mere reason, I am famished by my own ignorance of what I’m fed. Believe me yes, believe me not, there is but one thing Left to be said, around and around and around I go, where I land No one knows. Except the void that is replacement for the emptiness of nothing, Something that was not, but now is dead. I am contrite, bemused by the psychobabble fed my head.This was meant to be rubbish, nonsense, satire on Poetry itself, the psychobabble relish, the sweet onions and pickles placed on bunns for hot dogs, come here come eat it. It needs a little more sourKraut? I really tried for rubbish, so if you say it is...I appreciate it!!! :) only I think I'm sick...I sort of like it? Written December 19th, 2001 © on Dec 19 2001 09:06 AM PST, Darmok 0 • 14
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"The beauty of your execution, ..."