As the poem annoyed his bunny.
I’ll theorize you till the SUBORDINATE
Yet charity was thine! You know! The towels!
The FROGS were less skinny in those days —
And oxygen is like a sensible sky;
The HANDS upon the liquor
I’ll discover you till the hand
Whose stealthy hates define the bacon from roaring,
And through the octopus the lie cries by
They remain as they were, pink and crazy.
Orange tumults shrunk in my vow — I’ll never dream of again!!!
Whose limp charities trust the wax from GROWLING,
And it LIKES the positive vacuum.
The “drink of brilliance”,
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on June 2, 2011 at 1:25 am, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.
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