were we but souls fed to the crows
and worms that had us as only that?
no wonder our thinking turned morbid
and said: earth our home, fire our enemy,
coffin our mansion our flat our roaming-room,
coffin birthmarks it's earthen superiority over fire
which fire entombs given sway; let us chopin the rest,
and have us as a spelling mistake
to akin rock an armadillo rolling with
stoppages of "roll a *****, rock out with a poet
asserting ***** the by-product and poetry the
begotten famished youth!"
for the head to pop-up less readier for blow,
than blow on helium than horsey ready a hark...
macho australian flex, and biceps to give to
blown-up treadmill versus catwalk loot,
she ***** cha cha cha lip-gloss for a footprint,
she wore it with a fascination for language,
getting bored with sign symbols > > > (sharp bend /
quick & trendy instant graphic ooh):
in the real world red started trending,
and black was a usual tuesday for karl lagerfeld
who said: wear the same ****, over and over again,
and play the anorexic ******* to wear different
**** every day... be a fox among chameleons...
wear the same black tunic, turnip, tuck and shackle
otherwise known as a waistcoat all year round...
and they'll all puppeteer themselves around you
gladly ogled eyed all year round:
it might be summer in the sky, but on the catwalk
it will be silver birch dressed in khaki for oaken
wrinkles... and so on, and so forth... worth a rot...
had i turned to x-ray white suit and black shirts...
but the girls would have minded to adorn
a waste i claimed to be simplified by:
keep them thin, keep them anorexic...
the fatter the model the more materials we'll
waste tailoring: chubby gets the boot, the kick,
we need thin models, because the chubby ones
take up too much geography when cutting a leopard skin
print of silk for underwear.