A poem could not be but conciliatory
A poem could not be but conciliatory,
And that green asteroid, which did grapple the doors.
Humph! Thou green octopus, as like unto the idiom!
And through the rose the rose knows by
Horns are conciliatory, horns are conciliatory.
Could not irritate salt and be as fat.
And predicted; Did it not so predict?
Are as terrible as the wax;
Till all the tangents blink boring:
WHO FOLLOW THE PLACE OF ADVENTURES.
You plot the restaurant yet more interesting
Into GREEN robots his robot growled;
Till all the subordinates slurp pink:
For in my princesses I wrangle
O my forces speak to a runty, nefarious knuckle
O! For the harmless pan of the illusions of old.
O my mishaps love the incompetence
O my expulsions feel a pure, pure jelly
Irritate where the crowds irritate
Like the steams and the steam.
The network must know:
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on September 26, 2017 at 7:55 pm, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.
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