True to Cartoon..

THIS ENORMOUS BASTARD.. I THINK IT  ICONIC IRONIC COMEDY THAT HITLER WAS MOST LIKELY SUFFERING FROM ‘ASSBURGERS DISEASE’.. BET HE WOULD HAVE PERSECUTED ANOTHER CULTURE HAD HE KNOWN.. BULLOCK WAS APPARENTLY VERY POLITE IN WRITING ABOUT HITLER.. HIS ADJECTIVES COMPLIMENT SUCH A MONSTER.. According to Bullock, Hitler was an opportunistic adventurer devoid of principles, beliefs or scruples. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Beyond East Hill by Honeytown where reams of dreams are kept.. evil memories of insane times when widows wept..

A meeting of warm blood.. snakes and lizards too.. insects.. birds respect the ‘Tales of ‘Creaky Bubbaboo‘.. 

Hand me down with smiles to frown converse Crowns and the law.. legislate who masticates and swallows what they saw.. on a peaceful day in ‘Honeytown’ they will decide.. who and what.. which ‘dick’ loves not.. with dreams of money pride..

Parody good words of free for short term fool ya down.. evil from dark bitter glens not seen in ‘Honeytown’.. a monster who eats children with a platinum fork and knife.. laughs in hidden closets with ‘Lilith‘.. his ‘back door wife’.. 

When full moon comes over trees through ‘Dark Creature Glen’.. foul in smell an ugly presence.. in guise of a friend.. foggy cannot see well then focus comes along.. machines to destroy with.. bluff and bluster.. killing strong.. 

First encounter is the last once past it running clean.. you made a trust to love or bust.. fat melon or string-bean.. all across the liars cost.. truth and love must grow.. sure foundation standing well.. on what one feels to know..

Night to day.. a second’s play.. two paths come to stone.. solid place foundation of my face when left alone.. sense to smell a rotten hell.. a short thought money whore.. is pimping battle with no sense.. dead horse dead long before.. 

Ideas come from feeling deep.. very young unknown.. innocent and beautiful.. love planted is love grown.. 

Free I run..  strength finds me as I was when love was born.. trust of a child.. passionate strong.. moondown a sunny morn..  

You ‘spoilers’ who would measure energy to time and weight.. who make gold dictating who you love and who to hate..

Blind to doors of money riding horses from a book.. my eyes turn love to life.. my place where lovers always look..

Your token.. what is spoken.. spears pokin’ history.. behind a lie.. a lover’s thigh.. to bind in war those free.. 

A love pure whithers dark dreams robbing gold’s romantic kill.. dreams of nothing meaningless.. behind ‘Nothing Lie Hill’..

Silently time leaves me free.. in Timbuktu or France.. my song jumps from my happy snappy love all living dance..

Thought.. ‘when I let myself feel.. see the truth of what I feel.. and approve of what I feel.. I am at peace to love’.. Peace Tony

©AC.15.11.13.arr././