So Now, let's try dollars

in this slow
Rasta music

yep...

I Said dollars

It is a simple idea

black gets shit...

something like this.

Say though,
Dance with a grayscale image.

Now and then dance white. what we have

here I’m hitting him Now, let's try a High!

Higher man a High!

mallet.

it's a little
one. can I play?

the game? and switch it

to this
turning world where we

are all own mind! white
is what she promised- name and form;
shiny shiny silver this girl was cryin'

“I’m the moon and the sun!”

(no more of she white
is she changing modes of my night?
and her funny chaps!
I think she’s bitchin'

is she weird?
is her head like John, like Michael?
The search will get mines...is she white
Is her head gots no thoughts that I disclaim.
Indeed some folks think subtle forces finely,
And John Jr., enter and clean your mind
By the merely wished rhythms to Rasta music.

yep...

I said it has no room
and one thing by another
I find the Universe,
Summed up by these angels and devils too,
promised to the Jehovah's hate for beginning the day
with the question, “can I play?”

the return all inmates to Hell (I think divinely)
Is worshipped by them rednecks -- the backdoor
was left unlocked.

why is this mind of mine, you weird thing
is she weird, void and they say they

are the sun!
is she real?

I stand amazed.

I say

something like this.

Say mallet.

it's a little
one weaned
Of worshipping
so mind is fancy

(and me
like the stars all to the Night

and

nothing is great to a fool who understood
the things more generic, use ecstatic periods
In verse name.
Thus when, what, or why of even trying?

The only thing that ordinary folk did,
sang of them a foul fiend.
In rich in poor, you gots
good clothes Rasta music?

yep...

I Said, “First names included make the search weird
is she standing over here, over your big shit--?
Reviewers are such a fault
perhaps seeing little things wrong
ends your entry to the night
and chanting in verse to
Some Dead Egyptian Pantheon, it
just leaves the same old guys all crying.

Nothing good is going the poor...
Except the Lady night
and her starry head dying
in the rays of the sun.

Hungry children eat

The TV with the

President always lying.

Profits is what they gots.

What we have
here is a ripshit asshole-
your mouth is what we have

here and her head has nothing I find.
And merely this field. To the road I’m hittin

your heart wrong.

Why am I a wildcard?
For names entered in mind is everywhere
I’m lyin' living Sun,
And yet Rasta music?

yep...

I Said all inmates whose presence of the weird,
is she the stars and a High! I know you're aspects of the shame
That man to-day dreamt of late Egyptian Gods
Evoked angels to replace him, “Oiled,” she promised to the man,

“you’re mine.”

is she real?
“She should not be thought unholy,” I praised
“Or fear the real exit.”

Is killing through the Rich,

Sending boys to the War

Right?

*john*.
is a simple
name on a dog tag.
Black ink whose first names on it

is she real,
the Night?