#60 Gasparado

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


What’s up gasparado

All out of candles with that desperate aficionado

Tiling cars way late into the dark side of town

Heard you hijacked a match

Just to not feel down


Whaddup desperado

How’s the coattail riding?

Have you stood on the shoulders of any figure

Worth the clothes that line them?


The backbenchers

Always had the worst stench

But when they rose out of their chairs

You could tell there was a spirit about them

There were the kinds of starlight in their eyes

That made the likes of you

In your adorned threads

A little less wise

To the eye


And I know there wasn’t much to go on in the beginning

But they don’t care much for

The outer rims of preaching

Or the deep wellings of puddle bound

Stories that seem to constantly drench the soles

Of your shoes

So what have you left to lose?


Whats up masquerado

How goes the fishing?

I know you were gone

None of us ever thought you went missing

Some peter pan witch

You’d be begging digging through ditches

Till you carved an isthmus

Out of some wildernesss


Sedated like the elevated

That’s the type of medicated you enjoyed

We all saw the tooth marks

You tried to hide

No employing could’ve set you free

How’s it going now that you’re on to sally?


Whats up enterado

Caught in the pigsty with a fly girl

Kicked about by her father

Now you’re detailing your bruises

And it sure stings

Trying to breathe through your ear ringing things

But your overalls need a proper wash

But you haven’t seen the laundry since you were fourteen


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