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Silver and Lou's poems
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I would crumble
You could tell me
I could not take another breath of air
and I would inhale water.
You could deny me the right to speak
and I would write
But what substitute is there
for my true need?
the true meaning of my being?
deny me your love
and I would crumble.
by Lou
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Sweet purpose
we write, and finger, pages glance
as ocean and the shore romance
an ambient motion we compose
for some sweet purpose, we suppose
The rythms here all urge comply
Some pressing need for the sea to try
and the patient land to give it back
It is not desire that they lack
an eye to open and to close
for some sweet purpose we suppose
But oh for honour never us
a literary love it was
a literary love remains
It is the writing that sustains
unpicked we shall describe the rose
for some sweet purpose we suppose
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All I want for christmas
All I want for christmas
is a toyboy of my own
Who's tall and dark and handsome
A patrick swayze clone
I'd come down christmas morning
and there beneath the tree
is a great big box with ribbons
and the tag say's it's for me
I would rip the wrapping off
cos I'm keen to take a look
and there he lies and between his legs
I found the instruction book
It said if I pressed a button
he would make a cup of tea
He could dust and he could hoover
And he'd do all this for me
He could take me out for dinner
He's an expert at romancing
He'd lead me to the dance floor
Just like in dirty dancing
and He'd do some other things
The book made that quite clear
they sounded simply wonderful
But I couldn't tell you here
So I dragged the box upstairs with me
to find somewhere secluded
Thats when I saw those awful words
Batteries not included
by silver
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