Flange Matrix - Paradise Of The Stars
Bubbles float up grassy-treed slopes
Winking and blinking, blinking and winking
Troubled sloths relinquishing hopes
Into the slime-filled bucket that's sinking
Into the mire where bicycles lurk
Plotting evil as they're drinking
With the cousin of the Turk
the bird sings softly in the brease
Halfwits pen most arrant piffle
While imagining words of gold
Theirs the world on which I whiffle
Where ignorance unbridled gows
Larger each day as the morons march by
Is the size of my really very large pie
And sad men, walking like sages, have no home
So lay down in the street to die
And thus, in vain,
I write again
The letters that the Pharoahs banned
Stick figures dance across the page.
I end with this, in bitter rage...
Where is the scansion, where the rhyme?
Where the cat, all smeared with thyme?
Where is the sense? And where the prunes?
Down in the mouth, or high in the dunes?
Where is the wombat, where the 'roo?
Questions and questions, from me and from you!
Noble spoonbill probe deep with your bill
and show us your girth with a view to give birth
To a whale
Contributors: | DonnyJ, Beefy, dkb, Apsley, fester, Anon., dart, Del Playa DeBaucher, TG, Curt!, Bernard, Jason. |
Poem finished: | 14th May 2001. |