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Bohemian bottle

Ooh old bohemian bottle
How you pass down my throttle
Into my fatty stuffed intestines
Your iciness cools this hot thought
And relieves of this chronic pain
The way you make Picasso a follower
and Da Vinci a leaner
you awaken
bohemian bottle

But why me to you a slave? A dredge, a serf?
This potbelly for you I carry without remunerations
Not to mention recognitions
My instincts on the very first day unconsciously  you stole
This beautiful ugly love and hate moments with friends and strangers
The funny and silly times
Confidence and freakiness
That you bring
How else could I have wanted it?

You confuse me
To love you or hate you?
Be with you or leave you?
You’ve been with me in emotional times
Sad and happy
When I had everything and nothing
Much and less too
But you deserted me too
When my pocket was yawning
And I couldn’t sit from its sharp pinching nails
On my sitting allowances

But my ego died
Revenge is not an option
Because I can’t stop thinking about you
Bohemian bottle

Good evening times
 back from the noisy grisly  battlefields
or On the rotting tractor on the country fields
By the old wooden barn beside the brick thatched farmhouse
sometimes
by the luxurious windy beachfronts
sunken in the noise of the wild and times calm gentle waters
moving to and fro
idling my thought
thinking about none but you
in these bushy  African parks
under the tired sun
you make me wild
my brain scattered
this viciousness
this spark….
You light then extinguish afterwards
Ooh what a day has it been!
ooh old bohemian bottle
……….. *sighs*………….





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