07 February 2009

Nostalgia for illegal substances and profound poetry.

Grabbed a journal randomly from my shelf, to alleviate glum. 
Opened randomly, and started reading.
Saturday 10 February 1996. 
OF COURSE. This same weekend of the year, 13 years ago. And you, dear reader(s), get to hear about what I was doing on that fateful day, because I can't figure out what to do with myself at this very moment.

Intensely Profound Poetry.
(written by stef lenk, London, England, and a rather large block of smoked hashish*.)

lost a lightbulb in my nose
broken shoelace, funny toes
now i need to sew my feet
aren't those rubber eggplants neat?

runny nose and scrummy worm.
grandpa's body in an urn
spider web and cornwalls eye
take one last look lay down to die.

here i sit with pen in hand
reaching to a far out land
with cursive scrunched up ropes of ink
i sit me down and start to think.

(* and no. FBI, I no longer smoke hashish [or anything, for that matter], and if you ask me about 1996 I'll tell you I made this up.)

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