O infantile lump,
They were wounding prisoners from thy limp BOOK, whew!
For in my valleys I deceive
Battling me with me a most old fuse, WELL!
Informational, ASTONISHING illusion? That’s what a son’s life is about? Seriously!
The tantrums shall authorize like keyboards,
Now wherefore GRAPPLE you me?
And the CONCILIATORY fingers go liking
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on September 13, 2010 at 4:35 pm, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.
You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.
Enter your email address to receive new poems by email.
Join 816 other subscribers
Wonderful Poetry Machine is a vogon poetry generator built by Gabriel Serafini, John Tamm-Buckle, Damon Wallace and Steve Wamsley.
The poetry engine was originally developed to go into a lovely iPhone app that unfortunately got cease-and-desisted by the estate of Douglas Adams. So we decided to go ahead and present it here for your amusement.
If you like this follow us on Twitter: @wonderfulpoetry & @vogonpoems