Tuesday, August 22, 2006

frown on the tea spore

there upon the wiffleblat rise,
oh thorny, tawny excremental skys,
that dangle low cheek on her if's and whys
but upon a sleep
button on a sheep
butter onto a heap.
to lick the peas you might need honey
or peel it likewise green wet money,
for to fortune fade fast slick and funny.
but upon a steep
butter on a sheep
button up to weep.
this be not the reason for mudlaugh treason
that glimmers hot spot for a season
then settles low bop with its knees on
dusty floorboards,
rusty snowhoards
musty whore cords.
but forever now my brows are knit
with scurvy worry on my ears it sit
the pigment tail for fleas to flit
down on the seashore
clown on the bee snore
frown on the tea spore.



words by cocaine jesuit