we grew suspect,
the moment my next door neighbour
demanded accords -
          yet he was the one
aged 50+ and a bride 40+ with
a screaming down, syndrome
"mosaic": laughter dies...
unseemingly resurrect...
             left aside,
wit fingers cold n left unsung -
to warmest tongue untie -
let us sing post scriptum
              auld land syne -
let us sing e residing rest -
    dire rat to a rat's respite -
dire tribe with the soul missing,
and lacklustre the weaving
mary...
                  scot the arkan proud...
may i grieve, toward
the grieving vier until bound...
            wit shackle stonel
to iron bounds
                    let all echo astound
the astounding the woa -
          in grip of blue:
                        the bagpipes
at waverly station...
    and all history be made
                   a worthwhile hush -
the way a pict will suffice to
memorise -  
             and the english have his
shank strut -
beyond the the nether realm of levant,
to thrice the mention
  of antioch...
   let me tell you:
  what came with the roman empire,
died with it...
       what your arab spawn desired
in the former latin lands, held not belief
in the "acquired" lands...
        joke: what do you call an arab without
oil? an arab without oil...
        what do you call an anorexic
that's pregnant?
                  foetus-parasite feeds the rest....
i simply can't believe an arab
without oil...
                  seems
  a question that time only answers:
well, aren't you mecca-abre?!