By Arcassin Burnham


I've been on the surface for too long enough to know that
God has never made Somebody with the same interests i like,
Giving me the wrong influenced girls that never met any
Of my expectations to even cope through the night,
Trust I had trouble sleepin'....
Don't even know the meanin'....
Of all these troubled feelins'....
Tugging and grabbing sheets like I had a way out!

And That's why I don't trust any female to give my heart to
Cause they might end up hurting me in any sort of expense,
In the mean time there's no strings attached to any of our body parts
But some of our body parts would get so intimate,
Lost control of my feathers...
Sick and tired of this weather....
Love don't get any better...
I can't control you , if you want theres your way out!

No girl will ever love me
No girl will ever love me....

Like water, like flowing rivulets,
notes fly from fingers fast on frets.
Slippery sinuous shimmering tones
(complemented by brash bluesy Bones).
Like storm’s thunder and lightning a chord
brings the sky to us on earth—
or is it that we fly , then die until the rebirth
in gentle reverb of a note two octaves higher?
Strange how rain coexists with fire.
Drench us in the cascade born from your desire.

Some memories I give her
to drown in dark water,

like an old revolver
thrown into a river,

nights spent drinking
the moon under a table

made of maple and fables
we once believed true

love lost, found
and lost again together

where only the mountains
and seas last forever.

It's a man's life
With a hunting knife
And if you want even more fun
You can get yourself
A ****** big gun
And then drink lots of beer
'Cos we're real men 'round here

We all love sport
We're the sporting sort
But when the decision goes their way
The ref's been sold and bought
And then we drink lots of beer
'Cos we're all very happy 'round here

But we all work
Every day we can
Making lots and lots of money
For a richer man
But we've got enough for beer
'Cos we're a load of drunks 'round here

                                               By Phil Roberts

roasting asphalt oven
sweat and petroleum pungent
a festival in the truest sense
diversity beyond societal bland
tolerance arches over rainbow
colored heads banging to the beat
the great goddess smiles as we dance
she knows true love when she sees it

sing to the dying sun
draping white shoulders afire
above lahar fields green again
successions of ash and germination
evidence of universal rotation
barren to blessed
sway to the eternal rhythm
bass heartbeat in our chests

t'was many a year ago I had eyes for these twins
named teensy and weensy,
I had problems telling 'em apart;
really, i liked both them equally

they were eyefuls, like bucket fulls of buttermilk skin
both teensy and weensy,
sang and danced akin to
the buttermilk dough boy in drag

They , teensy and weensy were like night and day
though, for once I put my arms,
mistakenly, around weensy
and got my face slapped.

I think I did it on purpose,
you know how we men are

Last night
I talked to you through
a tin can and some string.
You said you were okay
and then I was okay—
okay with everything.

Okay with everything.