Wednesday, July 21, 2004 A M E N D M E N T S -- F i r s t - s h o e s My first shoes would not wear out My birthplace was a flimsy shelter that lacked topographic identity Melancholia pervades my memory- occupied by limp plots drained in various shades of gray S p a c e m a n Currently I can’t afford patent-leather shoes I’m under the weather ----SPACEMAN----- Flaws in my stroke weakened the fundamentals A sink-or-swim dilemma precedes a reversal of skilled inadequacy S u b - a r c t i c Every man is his own inmate A room should smell of culture and be designated as a set of Sub-arctic morale Proclaim yourself a soap opera and star by your own name T o x i c Vision is a toxic bacteria- a garbage truck of status quo challenging blasphemy The Gods of your zone Smoking Camels and sipping native brandy will write your doomsday obit on borrowed time It takes three stories to fall -effectively- to your own death -- (C) Walt 2004 -- posted by Walter at 7/21/2004