My hands are huge and swollen

Fat and sore my arm suffers from pounding keys of this hard board
David Icke you type using two fingers to get across your big message
I poet out death sitting at the gate I guard their spirits walking onwards
I could write about new born babies about new found love and all the joy
Rainbows that bounce around the planet as hot steamy lovemaking awakens
Kundaline of Mother Earth and makes us all sit up and find our collective passions


Hey Neil Young and Daryl Hannah wow wow wow you and you sweet


Swollen hands and sore arm make writing poetry difficult so see you
in the time of utube.