Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poet, Poetry, The Daily Writ, Uncategorized

4 Comments

For my brother

The wheat fields are ever so lasting

In the Eastern Cape

Stopping for breathers in the afternoon sun

Shown only car fumed slow motion replay sonnets

Of lacklustre vomit-strewn vacation hunting folk

Who lie to themselves that they are having a good

Time

I want to vacate the premises and show the one and only

My smertain smile, my smile of smertation and smoking-hot

Love.

I will not be then and there the only left-over meal in the street

I will do unto the other one what was done before he was there

That which gives one the satisfaction of being in the other and the other

Sundry matter, the hunt for the red October of all men, the saint of all being

The Joe to your Name, only John the Baptist himself

Who named me Jesus.

4 comments

Isolated_girl said: April 15, 20163:29 am

wow!

I also have a brother

A big brother!

smile

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Reply ↓
- The Bioman said: April 15, 20163:33 am
  
  I don’t I am afraid – he let me down, in the lurch, and he is now lost. Nevermind, friends are the family you choose.
  
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  Reply ↓
  - Isolated_girl said: April 15, 20163:36 am
    
    My brother is more like my dad!
    more caring
    somtyms scary
    and mny tyms funny
    
    haha
    
    yeah! friends make d world beautiful . ones who understands us and breaks the biundaries we kep
    
    a real friend! no matter over internet or real life
    
    LikeLiked by 1 person
  - The Bioman said: April 15, 20163:39 am
    
    Sigh…..Nothing lasts – think about how many couples rally have their siblings around aftr marriage….once it becomes a fre for all for existence, they will eat you in the womb like a greedy puppy. That being said, your brother is probably completely different. It’s a Western Thing, probably.
    
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—TOO LONELY TO MAKE SENSE – AGELESS POETRY – DADA

Bioman

For my brother

The wheat fields are ever so lasting

In the Eastern Cape

Stopping for breathers in the afternoon sun

Shown only car fumed slow motion replay sonnets

Of lacklustre vomit-strewn vacation hunting folk

Who lie to themselves that they are having a good

Time

I want to vacate the premises and show the one and only

My smertain smile, my smile of smertation and smoking-hot

Love.

I will not be then and there the only left-over meal in the street

I will do unto the other one what was done before he was there

That which gives one the satisfaction of being in the other and the other

Sundry matter, the hunt for the red October of all men, the saint of all being

The Joe to your Name, only John the Baptist himself

Who named me Jesus.

Copyright B Saunders 2016

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The wheat fields are ever so lasting

In the Eastern Cape

Stopping for breathers in the afternoon sun

Shown only car fumed slow motion replay sonnets

Of lacklustre vomit-strewn vacation hunting folk

Who lie to themselves that they are having a good

Time

I want to vacate the premises and show the one and only

My smertain smile, my smile of smertation and smoking-hot

Love.

I will not be then and there the only left-over meal in the street

I will do unto the other one what was done before he was there

That which gives one the satisfaction of being in the other and the other

Sundry matter, the hunt for the red October of all men, the saint of all being

The Joe to your Name, only John the Baptist himself

Who named me Jesus.

Copyright B Saunders 2016

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