Tuesday, March 20, 2012

poem || Edward Nichols

Rotten to the core

knocked his eagle eknocked k        A crecent moon fo a crown,a shilling for a sixpence, retaliatethe distant drums and let the Dodo fodder hit the ground.Which way andwhat, I sure do enclarinate the tit-tat total of the fegulature providenc. I say, for the drink of the swine produces a belch. He poured the evidence in the container , the crumb codgers will get this, so, let a strident wind blow. He hailed all the assorted frequency patterns and hailed down zeroe blanks
 no cudsmudgeon  Of discrepancies knocked his eagle eye off one trump of the vision he had on the mortal view of Man. A histrionics of historical  expressions he belied on his face,morning Sir, Ol-Fletch- its the nitty gritty. He verbally chaLLENGED THE OLD Mr,Holmes with A TIT_TAT Bladderwarts.Bland blends of bodacious escalades,tea more you drink itthe epiphanatic flabulenceof the thre pink statues.Regurgitating dehydrated Orgone and crustaceans Cardigan sweaters lived in the yellow submarine.Instigation propagation cngregation  gyration,bystander ,Robert Johnson standing at the Seventh Fork.Reincarnation  into a carnation ,the Immaculate contraceptiveHollers Libido power.Blubbery Ruby lips had she and knack for flapping them.Cremation ashtray,2001 a space odysee,Swimming the Under Tow.

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