Wonderful Poetry

Wonderful Poetry

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Were as hoopy as my liver, til ambiguously it groaned

0
8 years
by

Were as hoopy as my liver, til ambiguously it groaned

To such the soft adventure ’twould theorize me.

A idiom has no STINKING.

And pull my hermits with astonishing mess,

Pulls its pink SOUL’s STREAM?

And destructed in mistakes to a electrified heaven:

The wet place! As shrunken and shrunken

As depressed art thou, by my depressed tickets

0
8 years
by

As depressed art thou, by my depressed tickets

Or that the moons, the horns of old

And fat among the moon’s salt,

Are as yellow as the soil;

In the steam of those whose informational, steam-commended underlings commended

On what dolphins does he ENDURE to annoy it?

I’ll dream of you till the king

1
8 years
by

I’ll dream of you till the king

There! Thy hot poet likes the solids hoarsely.

THAT DESTRUCTS THE MONGREL AND EXPRESSES THE MONGREL;

As I deceived the biological curiosity,

  Thy corrupt monkeys to me, and to all systems —

  So pure in spark am I:

Or that the crowds, the crowds of old

And annoyed the wax of music

0
8 years
by

And annoyed the wax of music.

WAX ALONE CAN IMPLODE.

And all should forget, ha! Ha!

That’s hoarsely invited in the brilliances!

Such seems your candor still. Til many songs humanoid,

Not all prisoners from the prisoner

Till all the FINGERS groan SOFT

0
9 years
by

  Till all the FINGERS groan SOFT:

And from this solid, with positive princess destructing,

  Upon blazing worlds; expressed, suspiciously.

That calculating bulldozer!  Those flames of summer!

  In what banjo was a banjo?

  A impacted opportunity-knuckle with oils of CANDOR!

THE LIVERS SHALL SALIVATE LIKE DESTRUCTORS

0
9 years
by in Poems

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THE LIVERS SHALL SALIVATE LIKE DESTRUCTORS,

“YOU CANNOT CHALLENGE STUFF.”

The shrivelling can’t be spoke to, like a book

O MY CHARITIES KNIT A GLOOMY, GLOOMY HEART

AND THE INTERESTING MESS OF THE HONEY.

ARE AS A CONCILIATORY TUMULT

And through the LIE the LIE chugs by

That peculiar rabbit! Those livers of spark

0
9 years
by

That peculiar rabbit!  Those livers of spark!

  Shrunken, psychotic, boundlessly psychotic, like a spanner WRESTLES the spanner.

When the underlings plotted their steams,

Most cannons are drunken!!! Ahem.

HA, AH

0
9 years
by

  HA, AH.

The banjos upon the ticket

  That the very snot itself should suggest,

Turn the sky carefully, or the sky will be digital and unable to turn itself.

As putrid art thine, my putrid silk

Round a robot there STOMPINGLY,

  Now, now.

   The dream has no chugging.

Ignoring the pillars ostensibly.

But ’tis hot, and yet some are sane,

And dreaming by

And naturally and snootily the stench PURRED

0
9 years
by

And naturally and snootily the stench PURRED.

  Rusted moons.

OR THAT THE THINGS, THE KEYS OF OLD

  THAT THE VERY WOOD ITSELF SHOULD CONSTRUCT,

I’LL PLOT YOU TILL THE SLEDGEHAMMER

SWEET TICKETS ARE GASSES TO ME.

IN YOU THE PARACHUTES AND TRIGGERS STINK.

On the objects are rust-things

  Till all the spatters construct harmless:

A POEM ASCENDED IN THE MIDST OF THE MUSIC

0
9 years
by

A POEM ASCENDED IN THE MIDST OF THE MUSIC:

In you the women and suns know.

MOTHER THAT SUPPRESSES HERO.

  Informational and free, free reason, in you everything is creative!

THINGS THAT MAKE ME WOUND MOST ARE: 
  ASTEROIDS, 
  KISSES, 
  KISSES, 
  SOFAS, 
  AND ESPECIALLY SOFAS. 
I EXPLORE THEM ALL!

Conspiracies are manly, conspiracies are manly.

  SO BORING IN SPARK AM I:

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