I Am Not Yet Born; O Hear

In My Own Prejudice.. I Would Have Of A Poet...whose Worlds Would Not Be Too Esoteric..fond Of Talking....capable Of Pity And Laughter..appreciative Of Womem..involved In Personal Relationships...susceptible To Physical Impressions

It's No Go The Merry-go-round, It's No Go The Rickshaw All We Want Is A Limousine And A Ticket For The Peepshow.

Down The Road Someone Is Practicing Scales, The Notes Like Little Fishes Vanish With A Wink Of Tails

I Am Not Yet Born; Forgive Me For The Sins That In Me The World Shall Commit, My Words When They Speak Me, My Thoughts When They Think Me, My Treason Engendered By Traitors Beyound Me, My Life When They Murder By Means Of My Hands, My Death When They Live Me.

You Know The Worst: Your Wills Are Fickle, Your Values Blurred, Your Hearts Impure And Your Past Life A Ruined Church-- But Let Your Poison Be Your Cure.