My OperaThe Seventh Day ( the shortest one)
Thursday, November 17, 2005 4:16:32 PM
Pour yourself a cup of you!Ain’t no sugar. Ain’t no milk!
Just stubbly outcroppings around white cotton panties blinking 6 am.
Burnin’ cigs in the ash tray. Satiated, hungry for eggs!
And words in the morning…
Fall on down to a pillow, and listen to your elders sliding through the AM station.
Relaxing on a Sunday.
Kaleidoscopic shadows cascading down through ancient limbs,
Bodies glistening on the suns' birthday.
Wind chimes twinkling with the insects as the jazz takes your mind.
Lazy as the mornings’ glory burns away.
Howling with Ginsburg and bumping like Mingus!
Snapping fingers, shaking hands, sipping life.
Picking up the pace.
Friends and enemies kissing on Sunday!
Beers sliding down throats, silently taunting the
mid day heat.
Radiating Joy! Slappin’ fives in the afternoon time.
Hackysackin’, joints, and smokin’ grills.
No terror. No fear. No worries.
Everybody’s chippin’ in...
...and one day I’ll be gone, travelin' off to Monday,
and all my thoughts will be left with you...
On Sunday.
Just stubbly outcroppings around white cotton panties blinking 6 am.
Burnin’ cigs in the ash tray. Satiated, hungry for eggs!
And words in the morning…
Fall on down to a pillow, and listen to your elders sliding through the AM station.
Relaxing on a Sunday.
Kaleidoscopic shadows cascading down through ancient limbs,
Bodies glistening on the suns' birthday.
Wind chimes twinkling with the insects as the jazz takes your mind.
Lazy as the mornings’ glory burns away.
Howling with Ginsburg and bumping like Mingus!
Snapping fingers, shaking hands, sipping life.
Picking up the pace.
Friends and enemies kissing on Sunday!
Beers sliding down throats, silently taunting the
mid day heat.
Radiating Joy! Slappin’ fives in the afternoon time.
Hackysackin’, joints, and smokin’ grills.
No terror. No fear. No worries.
Everybody’s chippin’ in...
...and one day I’ll be gone, travelin' off to Monday,
and all my thoughts will be left with you...
On Sunday.
