Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
How doth the little chupacabra
   Improve his lizard scales:
Abracadabra and candelabra,
   He showers when it hails.  

He licks his lips, and grins a grin
   A bit like an iguana's;
Poisonous drool runs down his chin;
   His teeth are like a piranha's.
As Ludo turbo'd stage left, thanks to a faroff yank,
he was pulled into the shape of an Egyptian ankh,
& even tho' holding hands w/ a fly was rather gank.

Eloise instinctively grabbed a mitt
(well aware flies' limbs are oft-caked  in bits
of **** & garbage goop, but as a tomboy, it

was 2nd nature to throw hygiene to the wind).
Whilst Weeze skitched ride on  new muscid friend,    
Ludo joked, 'We're like Jan Van Dyne & Henry Pym!'

But this wasn't occasion for comicbook references
when chessboard cord schlepped 1 of his appendages
w/ swiftity of hurricane giving wedgies,

Eloise hung on for dear life (& life can be pretty dear
- why, there's nippers born in hock to their stork shippers).
If earth-intimate as  Amerindian's ear,

were your eyes, you would discern
teeny track thru Emeralds' garden Weeze's crocs had burned,
Fuschia swisscheesed slip-ons ploughed thru loden

moss & emerald swarth microfurrow not dissimilar
to 1 upon Ludo's brow as he beheld his immediate future:
'Uhrm, oi Red, do you feel a little like a water-skier?'

'Why, Ludo, now you mention it, I guess I do. Whatever's at
other end of Sillitoe anklebinder's the towboat
& my towrope's, well, you!'
'I'm glad you think that,

coz we're about to get a tad wet!' the fly warned.
Slapheading breeze tousling her red bangs,
Weeze craned
her neck: in front outstretched the Emeralds' pond.

She braced herself for the ker-splooshdown,
- KERSPLOOP! Eloise was towed across brown
H2ewww of pond Mr.Emerald never quite got quite around

to de-silting w/ the spiffy electric pump
still sitting in its box in his shed.
'Ranga runt,'
wake up!' Fresh insult exhorting her to 'JUMP!',

she lent forward instead, her forward motion too rapid
to leap. Hopping from leg to leg  in panic, until a wee leaf
was slid
beneath her crocs by Ludo. Eloise waterskiied                    

'pon impromptu slalomboard for sum total of 3 seconds,
when abruptly draughtboard dragline's tow lessened,
dunking Weeze's doughty chin into dug in cauldron

of pondscum & reeds clawing like zombies.
Fumbling for 'fiddlesticks', 'Oh... violintwigs!'  what Eloise
cursed just as genteely. Ludo's leaf ski, lifepreserving debris

such as sailors hug when ship's in Atlantean port.
'God must be Lord of The Flies, withholding wings from
ranga runts,'
philosoflyed Ludo, for tho' checkpatterned lariat

still looped his limb, he could hover no bovver now
there was a lull
in the invisible impetus that had hauled
them both into the Emeralds' pondwaters far from crystal.

'Look, Ludo, you've got enough of them, so why not
gimme a hand?'
He airlifted her back atop the leaf,any chivalry canned  
by snide mumble on why she was so heavy, milligrammed

by miniaturising shazam of shrinking rap 5
looooong minutes ago.
On leafraft she squatted, forlorn upon  pond once
deemed shallow,
when, like a waterboatman, limp likeness for Ludo

idled by w/ Dead Sea-style defiance of the depths.
'Don't cry, pink & orange fly!' the fly floating by said.
'It could be worse, you could be like me - stone blummy dead!'

Ludo himself still trod air like junior helicopter,
white & black-squared shackle drooping slack upon
& winding over overgrown horizon. Newcomer

introduced himself to Eloise:
'Name's Dodo, if you please,
pink & orange femme fly! Well, I was once, but my
has w/ rotten indecent haste already arrived!'

Yez, woe is me, humble dead fly bobbing on the Brown Sea!
yez, a humble, feted philarthropodist, whose mummy
fussed w/ buzz of favoritizzzm to maggot me upon her knee!

Yez, humble, most lovable larva Death 's jaws hath squished,
as if lightening pinched by Myagi's chopsticks pedagogic.
Except it's ling...ger...ring end, tragic tracheae flooding
                                                          w/ fluick...

Yez , alas am I, peach damsel fly! Hey, you're
not my dear mum
in a vision, are you? Your hair's different. So is your face.
But come
closer, plant a smacker on your son, as to the Grim Swatter he doth

'Firstly, Dodo, I'm not your mum - I'm not even a fly! Secondly,
you're quite the yapperbox for a bucket bug, frankly,
even for one w/ far still to fly to great dogturd in the sky!'

Thus did she set straight the fakely fey fly,  but Weeze did wonder
as whimsical aside, if God even owned a dog - was the G'reaper
God's rotty or staf? Did his nametag read 'Grover'?
Poochy ponder  

could not long withstand incessant bombination    
of Ludo & Dodo in stereo. 'Yez, I've got 5 feet in
the grave, Mama Mosca...' Morbid muscid bellyaching

of Dodo's seemed more apropos when out of this scamp
of a swamp that passed for a pond, notwithstanding a cramp
he crochetted about, upkicked a leg w/ amaranth

pink hobble, like a freshly ironed earthworm wrapped
'round one
of his sextuple ankles.Elosie despaired: 'Oh, not another one!'
Anchored by his own silky legiron, flitterbugging for fun

above pondscum, Ludo took mickey outta Dodo's sticky
'Mwahahaha, that's Cribbage's tongue! Most froggies'
tongues are flicky,
but he fly-fishes with his, reels them in, does Ol' Cribby!

You're gonna live up to your name now, Dodo, you dumdum!'
Ommatea welled up, diddly discoballs w/ lachrymation,
tho' before Dodo's dolourous dewdrips had minutely swollen

the pond, Ludo's own fetter tensed,
horseflypower revved at remote end
again. Weeze cogged this was, for Dodo, a godsend,

not  the God' s dog's end.
'Buckle your seatbelt!' she urged then gripped
waterbabe fly w/ right, flyboy fly w/ left mitt,
but as full pull heaved trio skyward, it craned the, erm,
of Cribbage!
tight as tartan turpsnudgers' pursestrings
be proverbially bound,  titely as such
   stucious rufous stereotypes succumb
          ta brite lutes' letheanthems,
        lushbrutes' 'Lemme atums
               o' shanter!' Or tight as a sequentialbumperoffer's
tape mufflers
o coCeeness is! Is i did as i did as i didun needtanot let Her come
so instant-aye nearuz, wusso instant tame me
us that it's weird, but neverso weird it's too near
ta me. i wanna bethe darkest mother-
****** me when i grow ups and downs,
with the hardest core, found
a strop shire by the banks of the
river viccissippi of my tude.
Didbut i dodon't knowbe-
cause She's

what i should do now. Now it's notso cool,
atleast not forso long, when i'm almine all pine, alone in he-
heat, so no more solongs thatmatter
for long. Coz notso long, i'm on my waynow,  
past no win knowin', 'ceptsave formore of the cosmic conspiracy
surroundin' that lackof
facts, 'bout what? Love's precogknitif
life, divine aboulia for two freer ta have an os sacrum
when we ache yum,  th'our liferent *** is a sacrament

where earth's choicest mercy lives,
so let no terse or courtesy put it asunder.
In postorgasmic sangfroid
of Our warmhearts mushymooey woozydoodlewick
what crucithickies fremd for sin,
lysanity lives! Tho' not in 'otel-
rooms exscinded, unexplainable stains th'intel of sin
exciting dishonesty's exsecting.  No, 'tis a clean join and high,
fidelity. We should even love our exes like the dead.
And love, that's clearish as ***
- i'm hi-sayer only ta Her, intensely, without leave.
It's no Ceecret or liceycret
Cee crept thru me like
a heavy geppetto ta haul my crawl
outta woodwork alps, pathetfordforests of rubbots,
bullbait of bare traps.

i was a secretbomb, bardear-  
drumfusedtongue secretin'  
sonic glooms of imploetry. But now i'm Cee's ******,
for She unstuffed my **** -  was no secret
bom bardit or owt, thiswaswhere my secretbomb bard-
'ead popped.

Quittin' poisonous logic
of mithridatic reclusivity coz She's sweet
as killesterol puddings, juggerpukka as an oldmucker
inthe years youth spruced up.
Sweet teeceepee shootist - of no putrefying pistol - Shestuns
forever my septisame me a bloodpoising wishfear

gunloadedwith one odd advantage, granted.
Such germs from exes were hexes less tacit
than tackedon bullets, but i'm pompomhome
in terms of pumpaction playtime  
coz Ceejay's my x-ies, WAHAYvision - loosens
my tying visions of a horseshoe shootingiron
like a t-1000's lassoicide.

i'm fondlefully fond of sapiosexbomb Cee,
explosionofpossibilities She sets off defuses me.
She's eminently permissible Satirist and Sanitarian,
with looking mind healthilfy enough ta free blind liceman
of ingrown sights astriple x as a ******* and a saltire
spitroasting a treasuremap.
Cee desterilicezingly ***** out endobrutal, selfshootin' growth
of mansdownsides, old sting-
ing in licey's riskyexwhores of eyes,
mouldering from all those stolid saladdays
when sensuality was a trope
quite like 'tripe', 'trap', 'trip'.  

o my Hereye's on... Sensed event, You all i...
Over softcoarse or rather falsehooddivorced firstdays,
and debauched and engorged allthenextdays,
that my Girlfriend's exceptional! Cee's cool-
ness is basking praxis of lenient idealism running a home
whichint runfrom; belle axe ta the ******'s hut my heart'd become!

Finely striped belly, tough as a tygoness, CJ yanks  
me like i'm Her jackpot, baby'sarmedbandit,
wags lucky lice like willie lumpkin's lugs,
-  no fairystale ballaxe or unporny story, between my legs
when She's happywith... Meow-
gasm? i growlgasm,
i'm that twaggish kind of cheshire ****, whizzed
thruol' churchorcheese toothshowin' carrolliannmog's insanityquiz.
Hearing voices, multiplechoices,
4 CJ
Knit Personality Oct 2016
The day began at 6 PM;
   At 6 PM it ends.
At 6 PM a cherry brehm
   Will puff with harey friends.
O frabjous day!  Callooh!  Callay!
   I chortle in my joy!
A happy-glad Mad Hatter Day
   To every girl and boy!

At 6 PM I drank some tea;
   At 6 PM drank more.
At 6 PM the Tumtum tree
   I smoked, then went to snore.
O frabjous day!  Callooh!  Callay!
   I urkel loud and wild!
A happy-glad Mad Hatter Day
   To every beamish child!


— The End —