well
what do we have here?
another fine mess you've gotten me into
ollie
oleander -
why don't we take a gander
from the back verandah
of a squalid panda
wielding an old sander
while thoughts meander
wandering
wafting
floating
through the trees
on a gentle breeze
midst the humming of the bees
makes me want to sneeze
and fall down to my knees
in a desire to please
those with all the keys
to my senses of being
hollow
echoing temples
endless sorrow
that they are forlorn
not foresworn
dead before the dawn
in the quietude that falls upon
the mountains
in those brief moments
before the sun shakes off its lassitude
and releases its mighty grasp
upon the golden spears of light
that pierce each creature of the night
through and through
beyond all hope of redemption
of even the darkest soul
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