This is infantile
And O! The corrupt sloths! How deeply they dream!
On either misery the tear battles BOUNDLESSLY;
It is POSITIVE and sweet.
From blazing poets to loams of snow; they complain.
It is hot like the most mirrored octopus!
Turn where the monkeys pull
And down by the stinking frog
It must be LIMP.
From HUMANOID supernovae to things of oxygen; they endure.
Springtime perpetuates the ambiguously crazy poet-drinks.
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on May 9, 2011 at 6:36 am, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.
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Wonderful Poetry Machine is a vogon poetry generator built by Gabriel Serafini, John Tamm-Buckle, Damon Wallace and Steve Wamsley.
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