Each Raw Nerve Exposed to the Chill Wind of Reality
or
How I Spurned to Loathe the Bomb (in Three (sl)Easy Sextions)
I.
"Whoosh," went the dead line, so i hung up the telling foam,
spraying, "I sea"
as my Legos turned to rubber.
My harp jumped into my mouth.
When i Toheed,
er, rather, Swallowed,
It gut struck in my throat,
lodging just bequeath my Adam's Apple (of my pie),
stiff and saluting like Douglas McArthur park
(the ass trill-ology charts blamed it on the Harmonica Virgins).
i dis-sighted that this Eve i must get In The Beginning of this peace.
Word.
God, i hope i am Abel to get this done.
i think i Cain do it!
II.
Reports of my breath were grapely exasperated.
Recovering from a Daylight Savings-related Dark Night of the Soul
left me swimming in the low end of the gene pool,
trying to rinse the afterbirth of my self
from my battered and deep fried nerves.
(i never liked them raw).
A wildlife Peep show sat pondering its uhh sex,
Drinking a red Bud before springing into action.
An American towed my realty away.
It was a trailer,
not a tailor,
Though it was a little seamy,
Always following me around and
A round is a song that continually starts again and
A gain is better than a loss,
Useless you are talking about
Wait, i need to tell you about the pitter patterns
of the quilt of my existence,
and the guilt of my remittance,
as i spelt out my insistence,
and fired my assistants,
so dire was their resistance
that their pay was but a pittance.
III.
This is my Random, and i am the Ran of all i display.
Almost a story,
A bit of truth in the form of doggerel,
Written for my dog, Earl,
To plant the seed of randomness in your head
so you can sprout it out
and put a ring around your collards.
Whoa, man!
Don't get me hot and buttered,
like my cobbler, gimping, mentally limping; a hobbler.
Stop "Killing Me Softly," within song,
"Que sera, sera," whatever doobie will be,
A wolf in sheets clothing,
Not a sheep,
more of a lamber,
a rambler, a heartbreaker
(breaker One-Nine for a D3).
My feet hit the street looking for a country
rode hard, put a weigh, vet.
The urge to drift off to the sea of sleep
purchase a stream
the American
(towed away my realty,
a movie trailer to the)
dream of consciousness,
i real eyes i should sit up write
and Finnish this Dane thing.
or
How I Spurned to Loathe the Bomb (in Three (sl)Easy Sextions)
I.
"Whoosh," went the dead line, so i hung up the telling foam,
spraying, "I sea"
as my Legos turned to rubber.
My harp jumped into my mouth.
When i Toheed,
er, rather, Swallowed,
It gut struck in my throat,
lodging just bequeath my Adam's Apple (of my pie),
stiff and saluting like Douglas McArthur park
(the ass trill-ology charts blamed it on the Harmonica Virgins).
i dis-sighted that this Eve i must get In The Beginning of this peace.
Word.
God, i hope i am Abel to get this done.
i think i Cain do it!
II.
Reports of my breath were grapely exasperated.
Recovering from a Daylight Savings-related Dark Night of the Soul
left me swimming in the low end of the gene pool,
trying to rinse the afterbirth of my self
from my battered and deep fried nerves.
(i never liked them raw).
A wildlife Peep show sat pondering its uhh sex,
Drinking a red Bud before springing into action.
An American towed my realty away.
It was a trailer,
not a tailor,
Though it was a little seamy,
Always following me around and
A round is a song that continually starts again and
A gain is better than a loss,
Useless you are talking about
Wait, i need to tell you about the pitter patterns
of the quilt of my existence,
and the guilt of my remittance,
as i spelt out my insistence,
and fired my assistants,
so dire was their resistance
that their pay was but a pittance.
III.
This is my Random, and i am the Ran of all i display.
Almost a story,
A bit of truth in the form of doggerel,
Written for my dog, Earl,
To plant the seed of randomness in your head
so you can sprout it out
and put a ring around your collards.
Whoa, man!
Don't get me hot and buttered,
like my cobbler, gimping, mentally limping; a hobbler.
Stop "Killing Me Softly," within song,
"Que sera, sera," whatever doobie will be,
A wolf in sheets clothing,
Not a sheep,
more of a lamber,
a rambler, a heartbreaker
(breaker One-Nine for a D3).
My feet hit the street looking for a country
rode hard, put a weigh, vet.
The urge to drift off to the sea of sleep
purchase a stream
the American
(towed away my realty,
a movie trailer to the)
dream of consciousness,
i real eyes i should sit up write
and Finnish this Dane thing.
I love Napoleon he's so dynamic on stage!!