It was a gathering of leaves, the wind, rustling them up in a pile of
around like a dog with a ball. A sister in mini-skirt with red star
shaped shades sat in said shortness before the Ministry of Effrontery
and Global Affairs par Yang with a large sketch-book in her lap, paint
brush things scattered at her feet. A passionate, an almost at the edge
of emotion and reason voice was singing in the evening air, the sound
carried through the empty streets of the city center, deserted but for
the painter in sneakers and lollipop before the immensity of that
building. And the musician, overhead, somewhere, lost to the eyes
blessing passing aliens with sigh, mere mortals to the sound of worship.
What few plants and trees with whose leaves the wind was flirting had
long been shed dry, winter was come and not even the artist could
passage another pass-time.
It was grumbling high up the
stone, the wind, a touch of thunder, clapping with sizzles, unstable
electrons striking the surface of the rock, chipping away, carving the
features of a face. The traveler stood beneath the formation of that
stone, robe, hood up, leather trousers, boots, gloves, all of charcoal
darkness, water dripping down the brim of his hat. There was a holster
at his side, 15 rounds automatic. This he tested with a touch before
looking up the path to ascend. Somewhere up the climb, the shadow of his
nemesis waited. Onions fell with the wetness of the eye and along the
chip of legion, a fellow of Nebuchadnezzar found their way on hands and
knees and stand and speed. Both patients of paradigm, paragon sat
entwined, arms on rice, lemony lickings.
A goat courted
a chicken in lipstick caressing the feathers of the bird that sang of
the glory of old men, the victories of the house of Bacchus. Long John
rocked upon the strings nimble as a cat, smothering things at the turn
of world's end. 15 men sat on a bench, 15 fled that told unknown tales,
15 gone over the side and never to bring again. The piper piped above
the noise of rushing streams, frogs and needles sprouted from the end of
goad lullaby's as the opera of Reginald mafiasos played to the pep-talk
of Pan. Talk sharp, tok short, time na pass-away. Chemical imbalance
beneath the kola colored tongue re-arranged the physique of the teeth.
No how mother of gentiles could forget forging a camera key. Stones,
stones, flying stones, pebbles of smooth and shake, the cave crew off a
teeth, the head of spear, the point of Valhallan giants. Black magic
made from the point of Merlin's beard, the only rule was ruled out
before the on-set of the game. Along the Arabian coast, a geisha and her
kimono tasted honey from the gall of a fish. A fisherman hunted pearls
where oysters could only disco-dancer. It had been said long before the
stresses of maritime freezing that the brown skinned grizzly would ferry
across with a train: chain gang link to the door of information and
systematic penetration. Idols and the performance of the see: sanguine a
sugar-laden drink. Empty bones and marrow of the brink, with Felix and
Solis applied a rectangle of rings.
- acronyms between belle
and her dragon pose a picnic
the appetites
apollo and baal
How when a jar
and a flaw
tracks on, gold within
The Nest
Warriors
with warning on the kinky kind trading with thine. "I'm sorry, but
where is not only about head nor tail". Bore a blow-torch to the place
of arachnids hope fore respite and despite an accident wore a 'lunghi'
and stretched a shoulder to Boulder. Vines vanished with the labour of
the drum and even the market place at day's turn was arranged between
the rows. A sister sat in mini-skirt, paint utensils and the order of
the day flowed like fancy sufferings upon the lip. The lip, the curve of
the bow, the kow-tow and pow-wow, the call of the savage with sharpened
iron, the territory of teamsters. Long wears the fluid in one motion of
athletic limbs, around the edges of the cave roman goddesses:
An arch-enemy of time walker
A poser with a ball
A puritan and a taste of cat
A glow and out and glow...
Sound effect, cluelessness of the manus - Well,
A
change of chords and a dunk of sheds to the people; purple
non-judgemental Momma big ass bloggist enlist that which will well have
been shod: the desire to prove a point albeit tin men in jewelry and the
trainees of impound. Long live the raisins of choice, Long live the
enlisters of arms, Long live the commute and the group, swing a plethora
of Damascus, Long live the habitat of flies: A sorrow of Mandarin met
with the difference...
A pole and Jewish plot!
P.S
O star of the morning
Even break, a warmth
To wine O veneer,
Of the pubis, the piss...
An armchair and a load
Of guns, fire ammo.
