Tonight was impossible.
Owl though,
Even if eventuality opened up like a heart thump
And the group grew up high like a high opportunity.
There's still work to do.
But it's fine in time.
We dine till eleven.
Soul meal under heaven.
And it opened,
It opened.
While we, aping and gaping and heaping and meanwhile,
We welcome the mariner,
That deep diving Herbie,
Extraneous expert we expelled it for you.
And he, he'd help well and even,
Then he'd heap a whole treasure mound,
So far devoid of his experience
He'd stare at a mirror hoping to find a person he recognized!
Like ten tyres teaming and tired of this magnificence,
He's stuck still, killing every tadpole that comes his way.
And what would happen then?
Could he breathe then?
Could he open up his bellows and laugh with aching sides,
Chin stretched out in mirthing agony
A birth of rapturous noise
Elephantine pronouncement like,
"Hello I'm here."
I mean, it can't really be helped.
Like, it's neither here nor there.
If you were to land upon an alien ship,
Swept together by the tide,
Would you know what to do with it?
Cause that was so beyond your experience,
What would you revert to?
And if I want to ask that,
What does that mean for the rest of humanity?
Like a sly sal silver slug
In sallow.
Sylvester Stallone in the 80's with a mustache like my 90's Dad.
It's hip, you know?
And as I sit here,
Stretched over the basin in my woolen jumper,
I read these words aloud like a well tonne warlock,
Hunting up high like a ghost for the door lock.
I put my tower up too but come on it's not really that strong.
It couldn't take the weight of a lion who wanted me
Really
Let's be honest here.
And if I had a rifle,
It's gonna come at you so fast,
And all my palms so sweaty with anticipation,
That I'll damn near miss every shot,
But probably only get off one or two,
And then what?
I drop the bullet box like a bullock?
Rolls over the side as the lion presses up
And I roll and totter, grasping for a tree with nine leaves at a stretch.
What is this weird world?
What is this wine nightmare?
What am I doing in Africa hunting beasts?
What well tuned wisdom did lead me here,
Doomed and at mercy of nature,
Naked in my ignorant purpose.
And what did they do to the trains?
To the training of the spearheads and spades?
I've only instead got this gun that's no good
This gun so outside of me I've got no chance,
No pace to this alien deathgiver.
My roots let go and I blast in the right direction like a piston
Steering naught but the wheel,
And I've got lobster claws somewhat.
So,
what?
I'm better whisper to the master and filter out,
Slide along like a puddle almost dried,
And then I can whimper and rankle,
Hoping you don't really notice those high tones embellishing nothing
Now, really.
If we return we angle certain,
Open out the corner with 18 wheels and nowhere to make it.
Impossible with that peeping hand,
Reaching out to comprehend these grains of sand from a state of statues burnished down,
Down to paste
Down to pate
Down to take and frown
Down on patsy and even brown
And down on me.
Down like an even surface flat and 90 degrees
Never fuck with a 90 90 (two times)
A rabid 90 in her ninties
Untied and sprightly with two lines
Up high on her hind knee
With preachy and batty home spines but whiny.
So sound and sing slimy it might be,
Slip sidelong inside me
And nicely you pry
But likely,
I'd knock on the door but pray to you never to find me.
That simple eyed gibbon
That sign handed ribbon
Let's have it, I'll burn it
Then have at it again.
So within that is your self-hidden reverse,
Grim turns and grace will disperse this ant hiffisence,
And with stim churned the chin scatter
With this platter
Into thin chatter.
Too much coffee and a slight watered roast.
Mastering art like a kite in the sky.
Snaking with string as it's held by three hands and hope that we keep it up.
5 nights to play and then whatever happened
It leaped and grew and tangled.
Bless this show,
I wish it the best,
I love it,
I give it my cuddling love and my care and now it must run.
It's been held by my shins and it's struggling to sprint down the hall and fall wincing then pick itself up and shout.
Go you little show,
Many died to get you here
Do your stuff you new note.
