Nominated for Poet Laureate in 2050
Wonderful Poetry
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Posts by Wonderful Poetry
O PRINCE OF BACON, BIOLOGICAL SON OF THE WET
014 years
O PRINCE OF BACON, BIOLOGICAL SON OF THE WET.
DON’T DIE MY EARTHLING,
THE CONCILIATORY STORK IS BLINKING.
VBut some lump should STRUM them to storks.
MIX THEIR SQUID,
THE “TANGENT OF ILLUSION”,
THEY ARE FAT, BOUNDLESS MORASS,
TUMULTS HAVE BEEN CHARGING, DRINK UPON PREDATOR,
The network must know:
I battled opportunity’s monkey
014 years
I battled opportunity’s monkey
O key of burlap, pink system of the red.
The tongues upon the vow
DON’T THEORIZE THY PRINCESS,
The network must know:
I’ll examine you till the snail
014 years
I’ll examine you till the snail
It is drunken.
Lead a hook, how it brings me delight! Really!
I’m strolling and destructing
O my symbols shout at a creative, hot android
Like the songs and the rabbit.
The network must know:
How I define Because of thee
014 years
How I define
Because of thee!
Above, Beneath.
I wounded morass’s wrench
Sons suffer the helm.
The network must know:
I’m failing; ascending
014 years
I’m failing; ascending;
Were as tasty as thy liquid, til boundlessly it ascended
And constructing by
Suppress the fuse hesitatingly, or the spice will be boundless and unable to perpetuate itself.
They remain as they were, corrupt and interesting.
The network must know:
Suggest! The computer is just a stream
014 years
Suggest! The computer is just a stream
And through the parachute the mainframe groans by
Roboting is against the rules of ignoring
So suffer this suspiciously,
The network must know:
But ’tis putrid, and yet some are sensible
014 years
But ’tis putrid, and yet some are sensible,
Are as a impacted spirit
Peculiar strangers of prisoner and of tantrum
It is the rusted oil,
The kisses are become stunk, the spice is grappled by a concrete:
Were as delightful as my lie, til ambiguously it stunk
The network must know:
As special art mine, my delicious wood
014 years
As special art mine, my delicious wood
Like the poems and the marble.
But O!
But O!
Who wrestle the place of forces.
And suspiciously and coolly the hyperspace finished.
O crazy android,
The THINGS shall predict like rivers,
O my SPRINGTIMES speak to a wet, red princess
“You cannot see hyperspace.”
And the wreck purred, crying.
Not all planets from the road
Till then, faith, let thy cannon construct;
As the MONGRELS stunk upon orange hoods
And the BLAZING juggler blinks in the informational antenna —
The network must know:
O! For the pair of wrecks to perpetuate
014 years
O! For the pair of wrecks to perpetuate!
Towards the hard solids, that read and whisper
Could not like snow and be as terrible.
This is not wet.
The head-men call out amen! And there!
And down by the purring DUMP
O, how I adore a skinny hammer!
The beacons shall read like steams,
That stinks the woman and annoys the lump;
THE TEAR OF WINTER.
Spigots are red, subordinates are pure.
Spigots are psychotic.
It is hazel.
The network must know:
O! For the pair of wrecks to perpetuate
014 years
O! For the pair of wrecks to perpetuate!
Towards the hard solids, that read and whisper
Could not like snow and be as terrible.
This is not wet.
The head-men call out amen! And there!
And down by the purring DUMP
O, how I adore a skinny hammer!
The beacons shall read like steams,
That stinks the woman and annoys the lump;
THE TEAR OF WINTER.
Spigots are red, subordinates are pure.
Spigots are psychotic.
It is hazel.