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Poem Number 7472
title: what I'd like for you


Commentary:

What I want for you
For the glory of your very soul

The moisture inherent
In the sun
The closeness of all
In the ease of a harvest

The uprooting
For joy

Combining and relating

For the glory of the very sun

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There is no moisture in the sun - it's made of helium.
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How big are your boobs?
-Symon
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How big is your winky Symon?
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This is Symon's typist. He hates touching keyboards. I will take the liberty of describing it to you. Actually, he told me to; stating he could not be objective in that matter....It's good.
-Symon's typist
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I assume then that Symon enjoys touching his winky? What a wanker.
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He's a scourge. Symon is an asshole.
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What is a "winky"? Lilliputian slang for what, exactly?

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I'd like to have a go at that title...
ok, here goes:
What I'd like for you
is freedom.
The kind that makes it possible
to see your dreams
as somthing more
somthing possible
not just a place
to run and hide in
when the world is falling apart
around you.
To watch you
take flight
into the unkown
and see the dream unfold
from dark to brilliant light.
To watch your eyes
fill with wonder
like a child holding sea glass
for the very first time.
This is what I want for you.
To see the fire of life
burn bright
in your eyes once again
while the fire can still be had.
I want life for you
that enough to want
for you
for the rest of my life.
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winky = penis, children's slang. bearing in mind that Symon is only 13, he would be more likely to understand this than a more technical term such as cock.
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Yeah fuck him for not knowing the word Cock. Fuck you symon!
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"not just a place
to run and hide in
when the world is falling apart"
that part has poignancy of truth.
Yrs,
-Symon
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What IS your age, symon? Neverminding that *13 yrs old* thing above. Really, just curious.
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Young enough for 13 olds to find me attractive. Old enough to run away from them.
( I live in Hollywood L.A., and have many emotionally stunted friends here, so sometimes I feel much much older by comparison. )
Let's all try to write some actual poems now, friends.
-Symoon "winkee" Schwanze
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