z
Contributed by
Damon_Maynard
on
Monday, 15th July 2002 @ 01:04:40 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
Risen Guys, gold, so get yourselves strapped in to go again,
Damon with a renewed feel and back behind a pen.
So let’s do this, winch me, reality onset pinch me,
Vent, Steam tent, plait octopus arms, I’m one short for three.
Candles; blow them out or just eat them,
Lit or not, mmm, wax greets the system.
Aye yo’, cold iron me only,
Got new fast boots? Cool, then show me.
Tin snips, the snip snip, brie? Please Jeeves, he’ll get talkative for a fee,
Bleedy, needs, reeds, leaves, cleaned sheen and Jesus burnt out tree.
So I’ll sell you some soup, but it’ll be pre-kicked,
Fist, arms, feet, skin leash, reach quick to Flick’s switch flick.
Clasp the sun with two of my hands for benefit yours,
If it’s push pull reminiscent to my cardiac carnival drawers.
Will I freeze you and your brand new shimmer shift chew toy?
Pent up thrusted through brand new bendy soil.
Mix, pour, repeat, done slipping blindly in da loop,
Eight press, one call, and dissolve do inches of ze mind soup.
Spray paint toes two colours, sink darker strummeth harp,
Exactly where I left it, so vague but shiny sharp.
Tuneful back flip noted as I mince words with a bass clef,
Beckon and beckon again for whatever you feel left.
And right for that matter, brain matter, sadder mad hatter,
Spatula, dance with ya’, skilled in six minute tantra.
Who would of thought, a praying mantis caught praying,
On bend and four knees saying:
“Help us, the world’s *****,
What more do you want from us? Let’s discuss,
Oh no, this time we won’t go, unheard or unseen,
Just ‘cause we’re green!
Face it, that’s racist, we won’t and don’t take it,
Your inconsequential misconnected dedication,
But no patience, you fakers.”
Amplify my name over and over a pain,
Won’t come out and come out won’t,
That determined fire + milk stain.
It’s not even real, it’s a painted on brain,
Holy flaming wax poodles, what did he say?
A distinctive instinct, quince hit list,
whoa’ fooled fool misprint.
A mistress with nothing to offer or give, damn!
Apart from a deadened rendition of green eggs and ham.
Penny for your thoughts, and just a thought for mine,
Hard to cope and hard to swallow, twisted and entwined.
Cardboard moon with paper mâche paper moon,
I made it a touch sinky dull, who says soon is soon?
Run to run there, why not? Or why what?
Another knot to count, count knots.
Test, trip sent pale karma test into your hands burnt,
Well I guess you learned your lesson, that lessons can be learnt.
Tale told, back off, back off, they’re my shoes I’ve got dibs,
Clippings? Damn you’re ***** kidding? Who keeps money in a pig?
Besot, sticky tape scaffolding, I say believe in what you believe,
It just so happens Hay Hay’s is a wish granting donkey made of cheese.
Yeah I heard the bottom fell out; I bet you wish you didn’t wish,
Petri dish potion made from canned lump chunks and eye of fish,
STOP! Mad rehab from a swift addiction to teabags….
Hold it, where was I? Oh yeah, Potion ‘slash’ fish eyes,
Another loss of train of thought, what could have been? ‘that line’.
Please please please, the animals, don’t feed them, I might need them,
The weasels, with knitting needles, knitting and practicing hitting,
Getting themselves ready to attack, and rob blind a Radio Shack.
Spins off another unoriginal Media Headline:
“Masked weasels rob blind Radio Shack”.
Ready, got supplies, back pack, rope, hammer, hooks and drill,
Powder, kit first aid, wool socks and soft toy seal,
Mission gotten hard task to pass, pack of cards to deal,
Now I’m done, set to go, pumped to climb that anthill.
“Boo” to you know who, if you bite my arms off, I’ll still kick your ***,
Then I’ll laugh ‘cause it’ll be easy like a switch tantrum handle wakeboard pass.
Ran because scared to face what? Your complete competitor or dressage,
Who are you to take a racial stand and decline a shark a massage?
Scribed stories of tainted bucket after bucket filled with doubt,
“Clip clop” yell damp bananas as they burn my ******* mouth out.
You can’t beat me, damn, but you shouldn’t join me either,
Pick and choose, a choice of two, ***** it, don’t choose either.
Ignoramus? Why whatever do you mean?
Lean on in Moronic, I figure clean it until clean.
Seashell to my ear, sound of the wind blowing,
You’ve stepped away compadre’…now just keep on going.
Copyright ©
Damon_Maynard
... [
2002-07-15 13:04:40]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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