Sunday, 5 February 2012

Padre Nuestro

Dolled and tuned

Through a wind

Bills building unsettled
Sheltered I
Chose sopa and two bottles

The place had started
Saints had listened
To south American rezo's

But for another's sake
They couldn't place
That part on a common map

Two different directions
East arrow faltering
Before a set

This was why they thought
The world was round:

A gate over her décolletage
Fitted in fabrics
Melody puppetry

Those cinema scenes
Where they don't speak
And your head eats itself

I should of skipped the casting
Fired the agent
And gone dressed as a dog

When a chanteuse sees
These soft pupils curl
In a heavy tĂȘte

They compose.

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