morning (Remove filter)
Balloons in the tree
Pass me the toys I'll play with you
lets load the riffle let the bullet go loose!
Who's gonna shoot the balloons in the tree?
Who's gonna pull the knives out of me?
Your little sister now owns your touch
cook for the robots 'cause they fought for us
we'll never let the kite go fly free
we never ever will let you leave
So you've really got it going
...
Saturday 12th November 2011 8:14 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
41 minutes ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
2 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
4 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
6 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
10 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
11 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
13 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
13 hours ago