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.
Sigh youngblood
Why so glum?
Heard you were chief of the reefer scum
Naw don’t take it wildly
Not to be erratic but they’re just down from the trees
Watch know about the birds and the bees?
Now youngblood don’t get chummy
You might find yourself making out with poison ivy
And trust me it stinks
The last time you want to be cut is on an ice rink
All over the frozen you’re gonna show your true colours
That’s no way to bring glory to your mother
Hiya pint of irish thou don’t speak
There are easier wrestlers that don’t have time for the weak
So spit your goggles and tell them the truth
The little shooketh by the open ruse
ore of the ages
In a simple state they take their respite
The utter delight of a widower
In praised plight
Down on the haunches by the glass tomb
The awful sinister synergy
That crept from his womb
Now don’t be a fair one
Sometimes there are little ways to be gone
The underbelly of the beast is a colourful one
See the markings of the ecosystems have left
Ah they don’t do more than be your best man bet
Nah youngblood’sod don’t have it this way
Park your ways by the freeway
Don’t jump
to conclusions
Aye don’t conclude your illusions
Youngblood don’t grow old
You might cut too deep
Might grow too bold
Finally beneath the ice
A home they sold
Now ain’t that cold?
Later cold blood
Don’t you fold