the lobsters in the pool eat roasted thyme while i suck the lollipop of tommorrows hate in bed. a poem by chris stafford

while i was young on top of the church i sung out to shakespeare the voice of the past.when i asked him why he replied with chewing gum and the i told him that the mass had begun. well when i fly in the train i like it. i love to ride bikes on the top of the small crater. i love you till you bleed in the face of death while you breath the toxic air of the metropolis. i love it when i love it all day.i caked the mud on top of it while i cried out to josephine. she said that i didnt make no difference if it was the king or the queen. while i cried in my self sorrow. i told the vieux carre, that it hadnt lost its virginity, and it replied todays the day. when the turtle has eaten all its sugar , it flies to the general store , and after all its sleepiness, it discover that its a whore. while the car was being refuled, i walked inside the store, i saw the display of candies , shining evermore. when the rain falls down tommorrow dont sleep in the sorrow and pain , cause youll find in your mouth an alaby , and in your dinner, a window pane.if i talk to you on sunday, dont take me seriously, because words are really nothing , and after all everone bleeds. i rarely ever see your mother, ican hardly recognize her face, she tells me words of wisdom, and then laughs at the disgrace. then i tell her that i hate him , while the mornin sun is lost , and i see the purple color, or the purple spanish moss. johnathan was a lawyer, he was paid to lie all day, once he got busted for selling a fisherman some clay. life is a strange display, of emotions and tragedies, while drown myself in sorrow my sorrow, i discover the pain in me. when the road is rough and narrow, just ask me for the key. if you see that kid tommorrow, ask him if he has no knees. in the quiet ghostly distance i see a butterfly, its strange to see the colors, against the blue green sky. while i also lovemy mother, i moved to arkansas, and i opened up a resturant, that serves no food at all. when the end i always nearing, i hate to say its true, but theres always gonna be smething , that brings out the hate in you. in the morning of september , i saw a coyote howl, in the blue ocean of tommorw , i saw the tiger growl. i hate to see you laughing, while the band is on the stage, but somone has to do it. or theyll cry at the parade. king tut had an escort, eveybody knew, but when i asked him to confirm, he said my face was blue. on the top of the cobblers mansion, i saw the burglar die, he turned into a vapor, the same color as the sky.when the cat was scared of the clown, he ran into the tree , but the moral of the story is to love equally. while the thunder roared on loudly ,i saw the water boil. the snake hissed at the surgeon , then sprang into a coil. when im old and weary, no one will criticize me, i can get away with anything, what a grand affair itll be.i hate to pull the rope, thats tied to the moon tonite, cause the moon might tumble town, all in the name of spite. in the slow retarded morning, i saw a retard fart, he asked me for the the motor, to the shoppin cart. tisket a tasket , i hate to sleep in a casket, then i saw the blue boy growl at the green dog.while the prince was sleeping, i went to pay my rent, then i realized somthing natural, while all my money was spent. in the story book the anwser is bold, and i tells you in words quite clear, that the president likes to hunt, while the penguin bites his ear. pulling on the coffin, i saw the cat meow, and the orchestra was playing while the mouse ate the cow. if i could read music, id buy a nice violin, then everyone would laugh, when i tried to improvise again. if the jester steals paris, we'll try to find the stars, but there is always another monday, when the sagulls fly to mars. if i was a chef , id cook the grandest meals, id make a purple hamburger, that was even equipped with wheels. inside the new guitar, i tried to know my fate, but there were too many people, in the filling of the cake. i wish i were a poet, who had wisdom in his mind, id sell watermellons, and feed the mice the rinds. i once rode in a chariot, made of silver and gold, in the silent loud clatter, the elephant was sold. one morning in december or at least i was told, there were mushrooms in the forest, and a house that was cast in gold. i knew a fine young fella, he sold his mothers comb, and she find out why he did, and she made him live at home. while i was listening to the ignition. the fire started to blaze, then the jailor told my mother, that he lived inside a maze. i once viewed a fine movie, about the rain in the fall, but when it was over, my spine seemed really small.if i could produce my own soda, i would make it really good, everyone would wanna drink it, like they really understood. i hate to think that you love me, when you really dont, cause it tugs at me day and night while the fish attempt to float. i am such a talented dancer, i never step on feet, i can glide across the dance floor, while the weather turns to sleet.the alphabet is long and weary, and hate that its so unclean, while the raindrops fall on the pavement, the robin begind to sing. if i wanted to make millions. i could talk instead of sing , i would brag of my riches, and to women i would be a king.while i love to make good music , i also so love to sing, i just wish that everyone loved music as much as me. now the sun comes up real slowy, but its well worth the wait, if you see the sun a rising, the darkness you will hate. if you stay awake until the dawn , you will say some crazy things, the night messes with your head, and it lets your creativity ring. if a were a ladies man, i would sport some pinstripe pants, all the girls from miles around would ask me for a dance.on top of the wooden fire truck, a kid yelled to the crowd,"i love to talk to you all day because you all are slop". it all seems crazy all black and white with spirals and purple rain. but never will you see my face for i will never return again. talking to the senator i discovered a new life form. while i thought that everything was here outside began a storm. but even if you dont like things that sing of hope and priase, i tell you this my blue eyed friend your parents would be amazed.cool ice an tortise shell is in my picnic basket, while i wrote a song of death tonite i slipped in the casket. and all of you ask why throught this poem i often repeat words, well the only thing that i can think is because cows always travel in herds. for christmas i think ill ask for a pencil sharpener made of wood,if i dont sharpen ill throw it away but im almost positive it could. a moose is brown and furry too, but it canst think alone, it has to use its intelect for skiing and giving skiing lessons to children mooses ages 1-35.i like to pick on my green banjo and it sounds real nice i guess. but if i had to cook a bear it would be a total mess. yes. i like to write at late at night becuz you sound like you are poetic. but if you think that a really am ,then ill hit you with a stick where you at my brother boy i love to see your nose, but if i could i would give you gifts consisting of a garden hose. i stayed all night to write a poem and i hope its not too long , if this mofo was a song everyone could sing along. the worm is blue but he likes the sky while he plays the kazoo in bed, but the answer is that he hates you when your fingertips are red. music music music music music , cowboy cowboy cowboy cowboy cowboy cowboy splat pop slop flop pop smop cop dop wop soproptopwopsopzopxopvopbopnopmop. in the time of time in time in time i like 200 o clok platypus orangeocean ychms stands for yarmouth cantoneese manderin high school.