the beggar

mujer, mug, tejado, bosque, Alhambra, cielo

"poudreux" pastel on paper

Kissing and speaking simplicity of annoying truth

this is all a beggar should make to amuse her princess

because deep brown at the doom of grey is gold and diamond

even a pearl got from the stink of sea makes not smooth

the soothe-less almond of female cleverness better than a kiss

and some dubious stolen words of a farewell

Princess writtings are a burning hell of pink disease

the pencil and rubber of her running page

is to have a think on evil of the first age of bliss

the silence of a Miss and the noise of pissing women trigger

a shiver of memory on beggar's wealth.

Father king's poems were pretentious

never a ruler can subtlety compose aside than law

thinks the crowned bride delivered to wonder and disgust.

So is the tiger and the virgin of knowledge reserved

to less than a few, to thirty passions of a thirsty self

falling in a cross and crossing a never-ending jewell in the fall,

so is the tiger, a paw by soul, and the owle of dreame-less boobs never-seen.

And the cubes and howls of fever do the same a virgin does seem

in the dark beeing to do covered by silver tears, egyptian water on a rose,

sorrow of a male in prank-bank and thank of no sex dose.

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