PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If I was ever to blow the horn of beast wick bon pass I'd turn geese sideways and head south just like the rest of them.  Wherever Thoughts roam across planes of Intuitive search engines.  Every algorhythm made for you to sell to catch to observe and listen to. Obey.  Farmers market Caligul's palace no grace on unferemented movements.  A story of malted milkballs settling at the bottom of a movie cinemas floor.  The string, is the words sundering thru hot coal peppermint eyes defying the presents inoculation of  suspected vibrations thru involuntary movments.  But who cares right?

His slacks were tattered

Like hell and beef collided

On a surreptitious note

The bank was open

Every daydreamer showered accordingly, while singing in the rain.  Crystal ball luminations could be seen in the distance, while traveling at mach one thru those nimbus spectacles.  His thoughts pondered about  like a zepplin floating the sky.  Where about shall the fish lay?  Across the sunlit window, the dead fish could bake and smell of high heaven.  Pointless though, because nobody named Phil was even going to stop by at one o'clock In the afternoon, on this most holy day of Mayonaisse. 

Broken fish

With eyeless gape

A place for you

Since your soul escaped

The words flowed and tossed about like a washing machine inside Fackleys brain bucket.  Two pairs of socks and its to the dance hall he went