Chinese Ice Scream

Chinese Ice Scream

A Poem by Butterfly

Ice cream cones are delicious and cold.

 

      I wonder sometimes if they ever get old. 

 

     They are so sweet and melt on my tongue.

 

     Sometimes it makes me want to drink tea like a shoalin mung.

 

     Kung-Fu pssst whatever chinese men can do.

 

     It gives me the runs.

 

     So I try really hard to pray like a nun.

 

     I don't think you''l like chinese ice scream.

 

    It's very different from a regular Ice cream.

 

    I think it's time for me to go.

 

   I have to head back inside and watch my plants grow ;)

© 2011 Butterfly


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

I was just bored when I wrote this dude, it ended quickly simply because I was having fun with it, it really has no meaning behind it. Ten years? Sheesh marijuana doesn't take that long to grow. yellow van? Dude, c'mon, I understand where you are comming from, but really? Those choice of words? Oh grasshoppah

Posted 12 Years Ago


For some funny reason I feel betrayed here. I imagine it is the irresistible taste of casual talk; sweet, nice and cool like a vanilla cream ice cone, that for a second I thought I was having, and now I'm not. Really, it feels like a fleeting second. Why did that end so abruptly? Your plants still need ten or more years to grow, don't you know? And the icecream vanished before I could even get a grasp of those Chinese letters over the yellow van that just passed us by. Naturally you didn't notice it.

You could be right, you could be wrong. I might like that other type of ice scream or I might not. Anyway, how should that matter anyhow?

All sorts of things come and go. Time is just running, I guess, after all.

Posted 12 Years Ago



Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

203 Views
2 Reviews
Rating
Added on November 14, 2011
Last Updated on November 14, 2011

Author

Butterfly
Butterfly

miami gardens, FL



About
However my Poetry is a reflection of all that's within me. The vast depth of my Poetry comes from who I really am and all that I know and know how to unlock and express. I and my Poetry are One. It.. more..

Writing
Masks. Masks.

A Poem by Butterfly


My Version My Version

A Poem by Butterfly