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Date Posted: 07:18:33 05/06/00 Sat
Author: Paul A.S. Rushton
Author Host/IP: porus.mcc.wwwcache.ja.net /
Subject: Just Some Old Irish Guy

Flick the catch of my cage and stand back,
I left my spirit there to stare, and muster strength from
filtered air,
But passes sought in realms of thought,
They won't be found and can't be taught,
I static sat through days of dust whilst worry wailed and
logic pushed,
Now inspiration spreads a feast,
A spirit scream to be released,
A beano wash over the walls,
Enthused to choose from penny stalls, I salivate to taste it all,
He roams, he prowls, with gauzy growls, and saves a shrug for falling foul,
A rampant pounding, thickly sounding,
Widest eyes to sights astounding,
In spinning hard the spinning stops, so scream it from the mountain-tops,
Your cop out magic, mute in dreams, you splash around in pools of steam,
You'll taste the freedom on my breath, I'll laugh my values into death,
Laughed to tears all spread and spent,
I know exactly what he meant.

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