Fondling Benedict: The Groan Matrix
When Time has run its merry dance
And stormclouds roil and thunder
It's very little wonder
That half-dead pixies prance
And dance themselves into a trance
A trance than which the troubadours
Can ne'er predict nor wish to
Conjure up in Bantu
While planing louvre doors
Through portals soon lost
In the mists of Khatmandu
Where the snake and panda do
Make patterns in the frost
Such patterns tax the mind of man
And mind of mouse and bat
While Ostrogoth and Astrakhan
Throw marbles in the van
The van from far Japan
| Contributors: | Apsley, Anna, Beefy, TG, Aa, Grayman, Roland. |
| Poem finished: | 17th September 2000. |