So Meursault turns a somersault
In summer's salty breeze;
The Arab dances arabesques -
"You kill me!", he tee-hees;
Camus amuses everyone
By walking on his knees;
While Sartre, chuckling, places film
In camera. "Say cheese!"
Now even Robert Smith has found
The cure to his disease:
Slap on the Factor 45
Posted: 28th April 2009 | Views: 348 | Comments: 0
Aesthetic
Slanted evenings
without you I was not beautiful
as, when unseen, you did not shine.
Mirrors opposed
catch and return the light
between ourselves.
Posted: 27th April 2009 | Views: 303 | Comments: 2
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