My Time, Yer Time

The Gourds

folds and folds of hurling whirling words come spilling out yer hole

dont intellectualize yer eloquent vomit when you rise

now peter had Paul dont have it I have it have it said I

in this rolling glowing growing stolen place that dont belong to me

it aint funny you say ok I had it up to here with you

this giddy little lifetime yer time my time dont agree with you

some temper axes in the fire some sharpen knives upon a stone

some chop up veggies in the hobart some use the bloody robo coup